


Legend in Silver

by Vera (Vera_DragonMuse)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-07
Updated: 2005-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-07 02:23:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 40,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_DragonMuse/pseuds/Vera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would have happened had Sirius convinced Regulus to turn spy thus preventing the Potters death, but continuing the war for many years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Legend in Silver

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: There is mention of non-con, but it takes place many years before the story.
> 
> This story is very AU and written just after the fifth book was released.

The warrior stood proud and brazen at the crest of the hill. Six long years of fighting had made he and his peers tough and lean. His body was littered with tattoos and piercings that caught the fading light of the sun. The tight black uniform they all wore for stealth seemed to be specially tailored to radiate power. The snarl that curled on his lips was a perfect compliment for the twisted metal that graced his brow. Behind him were thirty battle hungry men and women, to his left two comrades in arms. In the distance, fourteen other troops identically set to his.

In front the final destiny, the end to a war over two decades long and the changing of life as he and all his friends knew. With eyes blazing, he shook two Charged Daggers from his sleeves. Echoing through the hills were the quiet whispers of similar weapons being drawn. And then a long cold silence. "FOR THE KILL!" The single voice through the battalions into motion. The warrior charged, his thoughts so clear and precise that he would never truly remember what happened that day.

It had started out as a routine healing job. They brought the injured warrior in on a stretcher as the medi-wizard scrabbled to check him in. The patient's eyes were glued shut with a viscous red slime. He reached hastily for Clarifying potion and poured in liberally over the glued eyes and would have left it to do its work had the patient not begun to scream bloody murder.

The medi-wizard looked down at the bottle in his hand...it was a corrosive. He'd grabbed the wrong one. Fumbling in panic, he swabbed as much as he could off the exposed eyelids. What was left of the green gunk had started to seethe and bubble. More carefully now, he rubbed a Numbing cream around the rapidly blistering skin. When the damage seemed to be minimized, he found the Clarifying potion he'd originally wanted to use. Applying it had a noticeable effect. The skin around the eyes was cleared of the remaining slime, but an odd lavender glow started to suffuse the skin. The patient was oddly silent.

"Sir?" When there was no response, the medi-wizard made up his chart and made a note to check on his patient again in a few minutes. There were so many others close to death's door; the cost of the victory was quickly rising.

Left in the makeshift cot, Ronald Weasley began to sweat and vibrate faintly. His head turned restlessly and every once and a while a cry escaped from his lips. By the time the medi-wizard returned it was too late. The red headed man opened his eyes and saw nothing. The medi-wizard fainted dead away. Where once there had been living pupils, iris and whites there was only solid silver.

"You're his last hope." Harry easily met Snape's hard glare with one of his own. "We've taken him to every specialist and they all said you were probably the only one who could help."

"If Mr. Weasley's optical nerves were that severely damaged, I fail to see how I would be any service." The potions master replied stiffly. He sat at his desk, rubbing wearily at his forehead. He felt so old.... so tired. Every year he was both spy and teacher seemed like ten until he was sure that he was Dumbledore's senior. Twenty long years of war. If it hadn't been Harry, the door recently opened would have been slammed shut. But even Snape had special students and in those warring years where the Sorting Hat collected dust and training was up to fifth year and out the door to battle, he'd kept an eye on those who most likely were Slytherin. Harry for all he was the Heir of Godric himself was among them. Not that he would ever admit to it. As far as the brat knew, he only got in the door for his General status.

"That's just it." Harry interrupted himself with a short coughing spasm. Years of sleeping in dirt and screaming orders had left him with a raspy throat. "His eyes are fine...except that he can't see...visually.... this silver stuff, he can sense like emotions and thoughts..."

Snape's head shot up.

"A Silver Sense."

"What?"

"A Silver Sense is an extremely rare spontaneous occurring of empathic and even telepathic talents. I'm not surprised that none of the medi-wizards could diagnose it. I don't think there has been a case in nearly a millennium and Merlin knows no has had enough time to research ancient anomalies of late." Restless fingers tapped out meaningless code onto the scorched desk. "Even then no one was quite sure what caused it and based on what fragments remain..."

"Do you think you could help him?" He spoke with all the authority he had earned. For a long moment Snape stared at the man before him. Only twenty-one with gray hairs shot through wild black hair and green eyes were heavy with wrong decisions made. And as with them all, hands stained with blood.

"Bring him by, if he wants to come. At the very least, it would be interesting to document his case. Do you have the original medi-wizard's notes? And anything documented after?"

"Of course." The grin that met his agreement showed a flash of the boy beneath the warrior. It caught him off guard enough to smile back briefly. "I'll speak with him immediately."

"Good day, General Potter." He said briskly.

"Good day, Professor." A stiff, habitual salute and the boy-general was gone.

"A Silver Sense...Silver Sight." He muttered to himself incredulously. Fascinating.

A soft hand landed on his shoulder.

"There you are. Frightened by Potter?" He didn't bother to look back.

"Brush, please?"

Now, he turned to gaze fully on his son. The secret white washed beauty of the dungeons smiled at him, and handed him the brush. With a sigh, Severus settled the other man between his legs and set about brushing through the perfect blanket of white-blond hair. Gradually, he relaxed into the task that had become ritual for both of them. The youngest Malfoy had been a personal toy of Voldemort's until his fifth birthday upon which Snape had stolen him away and secreted him in dungeon for all these long years. The saving of him had earned his most hated nickname from Dumbledore: the lion in snake's skin. As if only Gryffindors could be brave and impulsive. As if Slytherin had nothing honorable to offer.

"Did you finish the Dreamless Sleep for Pomfrey?" A slow nod. The brush was set aside and Draco clambered into the older man's lap and cuddled there like any small child. If he left him long enough and stroked his hair, the boy would soon be asleep.

"Silver Sight, child. And the return of General Potter, searching for occupation in this time of peace."

"Now is the winter of our discontent..." Draco muttered sleepily.

"Do you cast me as the hunchback then?" But there was no answer. Draco had drifted off.

Harry left with his spirits greatly lifted. The ending of the war had been almost as hard as the fighting of it and many a day were spent trying to put the pieces back together. His mother and father had been wonderfully supportive, but they didn't really know how to help their General son, who won the day, but knew nothing of peacetime. To fill the time and aid recovery, he tried to take up causes for those with no voice. Many families had him to thank for the recovery of confiscated property and for the receiving of veteran tithes. And yet...

A part of him would always ache for the thrill of battle, the cry of victory in the air. No one was more grateful for the end of Voldemort then he, but there was no denying that he and his peers had been forged for war and now, at it's end they were as useless as the Charged Swords rusting in their leather sheaths.

And so many were forever changed... Ron among them, his second in command and closest confidante, so irreparably scarred. He would take the good news to him now and hope that some time in the busy Weasley household would relieve this depression. There was to be an honoring of the fallen of Hogwarts' a few nights hence. Snape could get a good look at the eerie effects of the Silver Sight then and begin to find a cure.

Idly, he fingered one of his fifteen piercings. One for each close friend fallen in battle. A tattoo for every fight he had led, nine in all. Over thirty scars, each kept as a reminder to be faster, smarter and better next time. So much change, so much to rebuild.... his steel-toed boots clacked against the hard stone of his childhood as the heavy weight of burden and despair robbed him of his youth.

The room was blessedly empty and for a long time, he did nothing more then breath the free air. Ron loved his family, but their constant, filling presence was slowly killing him. Carefully, he maneuvered himself to the window and swung the panel wide open. It was night; the sound of crickets filled the air.

In the cavernous belly of the sprawling Burrow, Ginny was thinking about something warm and promising while his mother's mind was rigid with the immense task of making dinner and still tinged with sadness. Fred and George were three years dead, but that haunting sorrow never left. They were far enough away that their feelings did not crowd his mind nor their images bombard his thoughts.

In the quiet, he didn't mind the blindness. Sitting here, in his bedroom window there was nothing to see that he had not seen a thousand times before. There was very little rage or fear left in him after all these hard long years. Very little left of any feeling, except perhaps, a vague relief that it was over.

Initially, everyone had worried over his lack of reaction and seemed determined to get him to talk about it. But months had passed and he chatted and laughed and even winked with his disturbing new eyes. Eventually it was all forgotten for the rebuilding. Bill and Charlie were rapidly climbing the broken political ladder of the Ministry to join their father. As the eldest, it was they alone of the Weasley children who remembered a time without the threat of the Dark Lord.

And then there were Fred and George, the clowns of their troop and unexpected martyrs. They had died together for the good of the cause. It still hurt to think of their double coffins, littered with their practical joke attempts. Even they had died with sword in hands, scarred and pierced. They should have gone in some spectacular explosion at the very least.

Ron sat in the silence of his room and tried to imagine himself without his knives and metal distinctions. He had been the commander of wizards and witches, feared and respected. He had marched into Brighton with no hope of survival, only to win the day with a brilliant plan and the brass balls to pull it off. His body was pierced nineteen times, his body decorated with five elaborate tattoos and over a dozen ropy pink scars.

Now the world was righting itself and showed him for what he truly was, what underneath he had always known himself to be: a scarred and frightened child. There was no place for him. It was not in him to rebuild. Born into a family of fire, he alone was consumed. He was a destroyer, an actor of chaos and though if he truly reached back, he could remember a time when he had towering visions of castles to be created, now it seemed that all of his life was a bath of blood.

The silvery curse readily revealed the tenderness that others felt when visiting his side. He saw how they felt for him; how they respected him and wanted him to once more take up the yoke of leadership. Harry would, he knew, but then, the General was made to mend. For all he led the war, in the end it was he who would see the new world into peace. Ron could tell, could see it in his friend's weary eyes.

But what of the peaceful General's left hand? What of this demigod's avenging angel?

Snape might correct his vision and the world would be his to consume again, colors and wonders all.... but why? For what? Better still to become a crazy reclusive man, blamed on this strange malady then to be bitter old solider cramping up the works and stopping progress to regain his sense of worth.

Downstairs, a low humming presence came to the door. Harry was here to tell of his success or failure with the greasy git. Ron eased himself from the window and used the clever new banister to guide himself out of his room and down the stairs. As he went he spoke the words to resurrect his wilting mohawk. Harry liked to see him as he had been these past years. Easier to look the part then to have to truly fill it.

"He agreed!" Harry crowed before Ron came to the last step.

"I told you he would." He replied softly. The Sight was stronger when it could focus on its target. In fuzzy detail, he caught a sketch of Snape, older and tired, but still vital in that quiet, snaking way of his. "You are one of his favorites."

"Not that old tripe again. I'm the Heir of Gryffindor for Merlin's sake! Snape would rather see me die a thousand deaths then admit I have a bit of Slytherin in me."

Privately, Ron agreed. Snape may have picked up on Harry's sneaking tendencies, but the core of sticky goodness in his best friend was purely Gryffindor. As for himself...had the hat been placed on his head, no doubt it would have said Gryffindor, but ingrained in his very flesh the snake hissed.

"Nice of him to spare the time then. School won't start up for a while will it?"

"Hogwarts' will be reopening its doors for students in six months. By then, all the wards will be fresh and the old curriculum put back in to effect. The Headmaster himself told me that this morning."

"That's wonderful."

"And what's more, they're going to give all of us a chance to go back...well, not back exactly, but there are going to be several adult centers opened to war graduates who want to get a more well rounded training. Most of it will be professionally geared." Seventeen years of Hogwarts' as a military training ground would take decades to undo. They both knew it, but let the thought lay silent. As so many things now went unspoken between them.

"Was that Hermione's idea?"

"How did you guess?" Ron didn't need Silver Sight to know Harry was grinning broadly. "She's got a paying job already what with organizing it for the Ministry, but she's determined to get her graduate work done."

"Then she will."

Hermione had fifteen piercings. Three tattoos. Four scars, including the thin one that marked the loss of her left hand. The new spelled one was almost identical, but it would always be stiffer.

The Ministry contingency arrived home before Harry could respond, filling the house with hectic preparations. Dinner was a boisterous affair that left Ron's eyes aching and his head ringing. When he could, he slipped carefully into the garden and pulled a long drag on a smuggled cigarette.

"Those things can kill you."

"I thought you weren't coming home." He took a longer drag, trying not to betray his surprise and succeeding gracefully.

Three piercings, no tattoos and one long scar across a pale cheek reaching far enough to twist perfect Weasley lips into a permanent grimace.

"I wasn't going to..." Percy let out a low long sigh.

Percy the spy. Percy the misjudged. Percy the vindicated. After everything, he had just disappeared. No one had time to apologize for years of distrust, for the thousands of things that shouldn't have been said and for all those that should have and went unspoken.

"We've all missed you."

"Of course. I didn't miss any you. Mostly." And the voice is so dead that Ron realized that there was nothing that could be said. No apology would help. "I did what I had to do, Ron and I don't blame any of you for acting as you did, but that doesn't mean I have to miss being the butt of jokes and the runt of the litter."

"You're the only real hero of us all."

"Bullshit." And the old Percy would have sounded at least remotely pleased. "Even you don't believe that. "

"So why are you here?"

"I'm a Weasley and no matter how far I run, I can't seem to escape it. I suppose that a large part of me can't let go. I want to have a family." Percy paused. "I don't want to wonder if I could have had it."

"You know you can. Dad, Bill and Charlie were all for finding you and dragging your ass home. Mom stopped them. Said you'd come back when you were ready. Guess she was right." He threw down the burning butt and stomped heavy leather boots a few times, hoping he'd hit the smoldering flame.

"And what about you?"

"I didn't say anything. I figured if you wanted to come back then you would and if not then you probably had a damn good reason. You never had that stubborn streak the rest of us were cursed with."

"Oh, I had it." A clear image strikes him and Ron realized that he must have been looking right at his elder brother. It's Percy as a child, face screwed up as he wrestled tiny Fred and George into their pajamas. "I just had it beaten out of me." Another image, faster this time, with the faint sounds of taunts behind him and a dark cold stare in front.

"I.." But it's too late; the family has finally discovered where Ron went to and his companion. There was no more time for questions as the prodigal son was greeted. Ron made plans to have a long talk with his brother one day. Despite all their years of insurmountable distance, it seemed they had a lot on common.

The Great Hall was filled to busting with alumni and their families. Food was eaten in improbable quantities and a lake of butterbeer was used to wash it down. There was a grand parade of speeches made and toasts drunk to both the living and dead. Every teacher was strewn with medals for valor and few of the audience were left undecorated. As the night grew on, the awards become more and more serious and the crowd far more drowsy and less rowdy. By the time every one raised their glass to the martyrdom of Neville Longbottom, silence reigned.

Snape watched it all, having already tucked aside his awards with the others the Ministry had seen fit to rain on him for his years of 'dedicated service'. He clapped equally for all the honored and raised his glass politely. There had been a time when he would have scowled through this sort of thing, but tonight his children were in the audience. All of his almost-Slytherins, who he had raised and watched and lost sleep over. All those whose names he looked for with a pit in his stomach when lists of fatalities were printed. For them he would clap and sip at pungent non-alcoholic beverages. Just for their very act of living, he would honor them.

Neville could only be followed by the Duo and Snape watched with sharp eyes as Harry stood, wrapping careful fingers around someone else's arm. It was amazing how well someone with hair that red could hide. When the full figure of Ronald Weasley became apparent, Snape barely repressed a gasp.

The boy was totally transformed since his smirking acceptance of his diploma six years before. Six feet tall if he was an inch, he moved with an assurance that no recently blind man should have. Harry's hands lightly guiding him, Ron radiated power. The pair of them were incredible. It seemed that all Potter lacked was a crown and the mystical sword to take the archetypal place of King Arthur. The warrior who wished for peace, but in the end only brought wrack and ruin.

Harry's hair had grown shaggier and prematurely silvered over the years, framing a face that was filled with a condescending wisdom only echoed in the Headmaster's. The black leather robes he wore were those adopted in the war for formal occasions as they doubled with armor. They gave him an air of mystery, cloaking him. And where the same robes made Harry a greater enigma, they gave Weasley a defined power. Red hair spiked into a stiff mohowk should have made him look childish, but instead accentuated the tight lines around his mouth. The eyes! As he approached the dais, the ethereal beauty of the Silver Sense became more obvious. They were an undulating mass of mercury that swam with intention.

When that gaze fell unerringly on Snape's own person, he could not repress goose bumps. Yet, as soon as the focus shifted, he became abruptly aware that it was not the only pair of eyes on him. Searching the audience, he finally found his other observer. The twisted mouth did not so much as quirk in acknowledgement of being found out. Snape bowed his head slightly, meeting the dark brown gaze.

"General Potter and Lieutenant General Weasley." Everyone rose to their feet as the two received the last of a long line of honors. Distantly, Severus could make out Lily and James, tears of pride streaming down their cheeks. They'd done well enough, he the Captain of the Air Team and she the lead manufacture of precious Invisibility Cloaks. They had reason to be proud of their son. Saved by another turncoat. His eyes picked up Regulus in the far back of the crowd. He stood hunched over, every so often casting looks over to Percy and then Severus. Three conspirators, who for so long labored together in secrecy, another three survivors casting about for firm ground.

"There is nothing to say that has not already been said." The great General spoke with a voice harsh with dust and dried blood. "We will never forget those who fell in battle," throughout the audience, Snape could pick out hands flying to some glittering piece of metal or another. Such a strange way to remember the dead, "and to keep their memory we must enjoy what they have given to us through the sacrifice of their blood."

The applause was deafening. Ronald Weasley was noticeably silent as he had been throughout the war. If Potter was the once and future King made flesh then Ron was his Sir Lancelot, stalwart, steady and loyal. Would they make peace together, a golden age? When all was settled would a fight over a perfect sad beauty ruin them all?

Snape snorted at his own musings and carefully turned to his food.

Whatever it was that Snape had expected from the great Lieutenant General, it was not this. He had arrived, early this morning, a somber Ginny at his elbow. She fussed over him until a barked command sent her from his side. He had grown since Severus had last seen him up close. The Weasley height ran true in him, he was almost eye to eye with the potions master, but the bulky muscle that usually decorated that long frame was noticeably absent. Where William and Charles were friendly mountains of power, Ronald was whipcord of quiet menace.

As soon as his sister had departed with a detailed whispered description of the lay out of the room, Ron eased himself into one of the hard backed chairs and went into a full sprawl. He was encased in black from tight muggle jeans and t-shirt to full wizard robe and boots. In each ear a row of earrings sparkled, two in the right eyebrow, one in the left nostril and the suggestions of two others under the tight black shirt.

And those strange eyes. They were open and seemingly focused, a sharp contrast to the blind men he'd encountered before.

"Well, Lt. General Weasley..."

"Ron." Was the abrupt interruption. "I hate titles."

"Ron." He repeated, slowly. He intended to never say it again. "Why are you here?"

"Didn't Harry give you the whole pile of parchment that's been following me since day one?"

"It is filled with the opinions of mindless ninnies and their faithful idiots. It's so hopelessly botched with jargon I was of half a mind to set the whole thing on fire."

"Harry keeps telling me that they tried their best."

"They have no bloody idea what happened to you."

"That's what I thought." Sightless eyes flicked restlessly to the backroom.

"Tell me what you know."

"I was in one on one combat with Lucius Malfoy. He threw a poorly brewed Incendius Potion into my eyes. I was so high on battle lust, I didn't feel a thing. By the time he was so much bloody meat on the ground, I couldn't see. The medi-wizard fucked up with some type of corrosive and a clarity potion. After that I have to relay just on what people tell me and that's all written up in those fucking reports." Ron banged his fist down on the arm of his chair. "Why does no one know what happened to me!"

"Silver Sense." The sudden anger was so typical of the Gryffindor Weasleys and Severus refused to be moved by this wild young man. "It hasn't been seen in nearly a millennium and no one is sure what causes it. There is no known cure as of yet. I intend to change that."

"Silver...." For a moment, pale eyelids covered piercing silver eyes and the boy seemed just that... a boy. Not a Lt. General, not a war veteran, but a child playing with toys far to dangerous for his own good. "Sweet Merlin."

"Wait.... you've heard of it?"

"I read about it when I was researching... They mentioned the Silver Sound and Touch, but nothing of Sight."

"Those cases are only mentioned in fifteenth century medical texts."

"And Charms texts of the early sixteenth." A flicker of a grin faded as soon as it arrived.

"What were you doing looking in the Obscuroms?"

In answer, Ron pushed up one sleeve of his black robe. Two stunning tattoos littered the white skin. With unerring accuracy, thin fingers found and petted the larger one. An intricate broadsword sprang from ripped and bleeding flesh. Around his bicep was a phrase, but before he could get a better look at it, the sleeve was pushed roughly down again.

"Charming. What does your silly decoration have to do with anything?"

"What do you know of Charged Weapons?"

"They're specially adjusted to focus natural power in the same way that a wand does. I believe they were created sometime during the war by a fleet of Charms specialists." He replied stiffly

"If by a fleet you mean one, then yes, you're essentially right. I discovered how to Charge weapons and I got this the day they went into mass production. Harry wanted me to take credit for it immediately, but it would have been a grave tactical error. As a Lt. General I was a tempting enough target. If I was thought to have a brain behind the brawn...one assassin or another would have succeeded."

"But surely the war is over. No need to hide your accomplishments..."

"I just want to be forgotten. Get healed and disappear into the void."

"Then we can begin immediately."

Those strange silver eyes flickered again to the backroom, but he was quickly trapped into a web of exhausting questions from Snape's fast tongue.

Slowly, Draco backed away from the door, shaking a little. His father was dead and this silver-eyed wonder had killed him. He was torn between keeping out of sight and hugging the threatening looking red head. Perhaps, tonight when the man was gone, he would ask Papa if he was safe.

Turning back to his beloved potions, he found his hands shaking. Memories that could not be eluded once more returned. When this happened, he usually asked Papa to brush his hair, but when Papa was busy like now.... he crept into their bedroom. Papa had tried to get him to sleep in his own bed, but he just didn't feel safe. So many attacks, so many long nights wondering if it would be now or in an hour or perhaps not at all this night, but over breakfast.... Shivering harder, he curled into their large bed and hugged his battered stuffed Crup to his chest.

The windowpane was cool beneath his cheek, balanced by the warm wood under his hand. A dim chirp of crickets and occasional moans from the foundations were the only disturbances of the black silence. He shifted on the sill, fingering the intricate carvings that he himself had put there so many long years ago.

Eternities had passed since he was the child with a penknife and book of Protection charms, carefully carving shields for Fred, George and Ron. They had been so small then and so very frightened. But he had been strong and carved their fears away with bony fingers. When his mother found him at it, she didn't have the heart to scold him. Instead, she had gathered him up in her arms and held him for a long time.

He had missed these memories. Even if they were so tainted with those later ugly years when had sat in this very room, wishing he were anywhere else, but in this house with his hateful siblings and suspicious parents.

The coughing fit took him unaware and sent him sprawling to the floor. The ice block that had long settled in his chest rattled wickedly threatening to grow larger. Icy spikes flowed through his veins, cutting invisibly and choking into his throat. He convulsed once, twice and went still. All was silent again. He stayed the floor a long time and thought of his changed little brother, wondered if those powerful eyes had found out what he tried so hard to conceal.

He had come home to find his family again, true. But his deeper, stronger purpose was far more selfish... Percy Weasley had come home to die.

The canvas had taken on a life of it's own. Lately that happened a lot. She had imagined that once peace had descended, so would it descend on her soul, but it seemed not be. The thick layers of red and black paint stared back at her, the bent grotesque images a hideous throwback to the darkest times.

She stood with a sigh and brushed long tangled strands of hair out of her eyes with stiff false fingers. The windows were open on a fresh, cloudless morning and the sun shone cheerily in. She itched to slam them closed and sit in the dark to weep. She allowed the feeling to wash over her for a long moment before shaking it clear. There was no room for that now, no time to sit in fear.

After all those long years of battle, Major General of the second largest troop, Hermione had found her place organizing the reschooling of those she had worked so hard to make battle ready. In six months, she had already begun three central Learning Centers with fifty classes taught by pre-War Hogwarts' and other secondary school graduates. If all went well, she herself would graduate in a year and start teaching herself.

Her life by all appearances was good. By sheer chance, her parents were not those among the Muggle-born relatives wiped out in one of the reactive strikes and they were happily ensconced in their practices. She had a job she enjoyed with the promise of endless learning in front of her and even a wonderful man by her side. Merlin knew they'd both had enough of pain and loneliness for a lifetime.

"Heavy thoughts, love?" And he was there and the last of the darkness left her.

"Mmmm." She smiled crookedly. "They've passed. Have you made dinner?"

"I hope you don't mind that its only eggs."

"That will do, Regulus."

Yes, in a few months she'd be Hermione Black and the world would spin on. Eventually the pain would leave. And life could begin again.

It was in the middle of the third day Ron had spent at Snape's side that he finally got a glimpse of the mysterious stranger who had made him itchy since the first time he'd come here. It wasn't just the Silver Sight that warned him of the presence of another, but years of excepting a sneak attack making him hyper aware.

Ron was listening carefully to a text read itself quietly and clearly to him while Snape poured over several other tomes when the door creaked. Ron was instantly on his feet, fingers going to his side to pull his sword from his hip. It took him a moment to register that there was nothing there to pull on his attacker. As a part of the peace process, there was a general disarmament as suggested several times in General Potter's speeches.

"Settle down. It is no one of any threat to you."

He could feel the other body, close and frightened. Gently, he extended a hand.

"Hello?"

As soft as a dove, fingers alighted on his hands and then flitted nervously away again.

"It's quite safe Draco. He is merely easily startled." The touch returned, tentative, but a little surer.

"Draco." Ron repeated. "That's a nice name. Who are you?"

"He is my adopted son. " Snape responded unexpectedly. "He wanted to thank you."

"Whatever for?"

"You killed Lucius." The voice seemed oddly hoarse in contrast to the soft hand, which had still not left, tracing gentle circles into his palm.

"If I had him here I would do it again." Ron replied firmly. "Of all of them, he is the only one I have no regret in slaughtering."

The hug was so swift it left Ron wondering whether or not it had actually happened.

"Are we friends?"

"Sure, Draco." The body felt as old as his own, so what was with the little boy act?

"Can you bring Percy?"

"What?" For a moment, he wanted nothing more then to be able to see so that he could figure out what the hell was going on. It passed as swiftly as it came.

"Is the Forget-Not congealed?" Snape asked, his tone noticeably softer then Ron had ever heard before.

"No." And the presence retreated after another soft touch to his wrist. When the door shut, Snape loosed a small sigh.

"What does he want with Percy?"

"Your brother was an.....associate of mine."

"A spy, I know."

"Yes." A creak of wood as Snape shifted in his chair. "We often came and went from my chambers. Draco became very familiar with him and they often occupied each other when I had other things to attend too. Once the war was over, he saw no reason to return."

"He didn't speak to any of us when he left... He's back now."

"I saw him at the banquet." Snape admitted. "But he did not seem interested in speaking with me."

"I don't know why he came back." Slowly, Ron lowered himself back into his chair, halting the droning of his book. "The same day Harry spoke to you, he just showed up."

"Well, if you could get him to come, Draco would be most grateful. He seems to be quite taken with you already."

"Why did he thank me for killing Lucius?"

There was a long agonizing pause and Ron had almost decided he wasn't going to get an answer when Snape broke the silence.

"Draco was Lucius' son. I took him from his home when he was five. Since then he has lived with me. In sixteen years, I have only barely begun to peel back the layers of damage done. The boy may never really grow up."

"I wish I had taken longer to kill him." Ron said firmly.

As one, they turned back to their books. There was nothing left to say.

Once more at home, Ron went out back and sank into one wicker chair. Carefully, he let his cigarette blaze up and took a deep, satisfying suck. The smoke filled him and burned in all the right places. Letting out a long, funneled breath, he waited. Someone was bound to come interrupt his peace and quiet.

Within ten minutes, Ginny had arrived and was chatting merrily about her part in Hermione's learning centers. He listened, nodded and said all the right things.

"Well, enough about that." She finally said decisively. "How are things going with Professor Snape? Has he threatened to poison you yet?"

"Not at all." He paused and took another drag. "He's been fairly decent for Snape. I think he's better when he's doing something new instead of teaching scared kids."

"Have you made any progress at all?"

"We're still reading the case studies. There's a surprising amount of them when you've lumped them all together. Some are better documented then others."

"That's good... Mom says dinner should be ready if an hour or so. Can I get you anything?"

"No....wait." He felt her pause. "Ask Percy if he'd mind taking me for a walk."

"All right." Confusion flowed off her clear as day. " I think he's upstairs."

Several minutes later, Ron felt his brother's presence. As he grew more used to the Silver Sight, it became more detailed. There was a certain 'feel' to almost everyone around him. Percy was a tense line of red, occasionally wavering to slightly calmer oranges.

"You wanted something?"

"Walk with me? I'd like to get away from the house."

"Ginny would be happy to..."

"Help me up." A fine boned hand clasped his wrist and drew him up. With a touch born of practice, Ron clasped his brother's bent elbow. "Just down to the pond and back." They moved slowly, avoiding the faster, but more treacherous routes across the Burrow's back property. In the relative silence, Ron could hear Percy's stiff even breaths and swayed with his methodical steps.

"Snape said the two of you used to spend quality time together." He said, after a while.

"Hardly." Percy sniffed. "We worked together is all. And he was kind enough to lend me his couch for a kip when I was too tired to Apperate back home."

"Really?" Ron clutched slightly tighter as they began going downhill. "I met Draco, you know. He asked for you."

"Oh...is he...Well, no, of course he isn't fine."

"No. He's seems very...fragile."

Percy snorted

"Handy understatement. He's a bloody mess and Snape of all people is the only thing keeping him from the brink of extinction. He almost never talks to anyone. I'm surprised you saw him at all."

"He wanted to thank me....for killing Lucius."

"Merlin...that was you? There was barely enough body to scrap into a jar when they found him."

"After what Snape told me about Draco, I wouldn't mind doing it all over again."

"How much did he say?" The question was casual, but Percy's grip on his arm tightened.

"Almost nothing. Only that it was a fucking good thing that he got him out of there." The grip relaxed. "Why, how much did he tell you?"

"Not much, but....Draco's got some interesting phobias that give enough away."

"Like what?"

"Don't push it." A swift breeze brought the lake air to them. "We're here."

Slowly, Ron disengaged from his brother and walked slowly down to the water. He swirled his fingers in the lapping waves and smiled at the memories that greeted him. Harry and he during shortened summer breaks playing until they passed out on the shore, fatigued and burning.

He felt Percy join him and the very idea of Percy sitting in the damp and the mud was enough to make Ron shiver. They had all changed so much. Gently, so as not to startle him, he raised wet fingers to his brother's cheek.

"May I?"

Percy nodded weakly under his fingertips. Waves of unease greeting his Silver Sight, Ron felt the soft skin as familiar as his own. The cheeks were so deeply hollowed, the lips so puckered, he rather imagined Percy was sucking on some invisible lemon. The skin under his eyes was especially fragile as if there were heavy bruises there. A sharp breath disturbed the air and Ron dropped his hands.

"You feel tired...sick."

"Thanks." Was the dry return. "You look just peachy."

"I know." They were quiet together for a long time, but finally Ron just had to ask, "Where were you? After the dust cleared...."

"Italy mostly. And then China for a few weeks and then Switzerland."

"Why those places?"

"No particular reason." Seeking aid, turning to every Charms, Potions and Curse professionals he could find. Anyone who might have the blessed cure. "Just places I wanted to see." And he had learned a fair amount, seen some amazing places, but it was all done in sepia-colored memory. His mind had been everywhere at once.

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

"No." And the bitterness leaked into Ron's skin it was so strong. "It doesn't exist."

"What....love?"

"Fuck. Off." The anger was so immediate and so foreign that Ron nearly tumbled into the pond, only well honed reflexes saved him. He could hear Percy retreating.

"Wait!" He commanded. "I don't know what's got your knickers in a twist, but I can't get home alone."

He could feel the pull of emotions, but Percy's fundamental sense of what was right seemed intact. A begrudging hand helped him up.

"This is so pathetic."

"I can't help it." He replied defensively.

"I know...that's what's pathetic. The two of us...Merlin, our whole fucking family. We were the incorrigible, courageous, indefatigable Weasleys and now... Mom's got a twitch, Dad's back is practically snapping in two with all the extra responsibility, Bill and Charlie have had all the fight sucked out of them and Ginny's a nattering twit. The only pair with a sense of humor are dead. And us! The fallen, wounded heroes. The spy uncovered and the great General unable to walk to his own house."

It wasn't funny. Not at all. But the woods rang with gales of laughter all the way back to the Burrow.

If Snape had been expecting to Percy to come back with his tail between his legs, all dewy-eyed apologies then he would have been gravely disappointed. But of course, Snape was smart enough not to except anything of the sort.

He arrived with Ron on time for the blind man's daily appointment at the beginning of the second week. The time away from England hadn't added weight to those strong Weasley bones, but rather had thinned him to the point of ugliness and added black circles beneath his eyes. The scar that twisted his lips was red with irritation. The stupid boy had been scratching at.

"Professor Snape."

"Mr. Weasley."

They stared at each other, angular, bitter ex-spies. Comrades in arms. A flicker of understanding passed between them and the tension in the room shattered. Just in time for a streak of white gold to burst through the room and attach itself to Percy's dubious frame.

"Percy!" The anger was punctuated with hard hugs. "You went away."

"Yes, well I'm back now." The half of his lips that were still mobile, raised in a strange smile.

"Checkers!" Was the firm command. And Percy allowed himself be dragged into the personal chambers attached to the lab. When they were gone, Ron sank boneless into his usual chair.

"That's the first time he's been remotely happy since he came back." He said, slightly perplexed. "What's checlerns?

"Checkers." Snape corrected absently. "It's a Muggle game. I tried to teach Draco chess, but the pieces obliterating each other bothered him. Percy suggested the alternative."

"Strange. I didn't think Percy knew the first little thing about Muggles."

Snape snorted. It sounded almost exactly like Percy's.

"You don't know much about your brother, do you?" Snape mocked. "The boy knew more then anyone in the Order. He spent vast amounts of time living among them, particularly when he was spying. It was safer for him at least to sleep and eat in Muggle London and it gave him a place to disappear to if he was ever caught."

"I never knew." Ron replied softly, idly scratching his naked scalp. "Then again, I never asked."

"Don't feel too guilty." Snape said hurriedly, trying to blur over his kindness. "You're plate was rather full."

"Yes." But the reply was full of mourning and Ron's concentration waned the rest of the day, thrown off particularly when Draco's bubbling laughter would rise from behind the door, once accompanied by Percy's husky chuckles.

With the day a complete waste as far as research went, Snape was more then happy to see the Weasley brothers on their way out to Dumbledore's office where they would floo home. When he returned, Draco was happily dissecting a Beeblebrox for the next batch of Cure-All they had to make.

"Did you have a good visit?"

"Won the games. Almost all of them. " Draco beamed, bouncing a little on his toes. "Percy is a better player then you."

"I suppose that he is." He replied coolly. "He's had more practice."

"Percy is sad."

"Yes."

"Oh." Draco bit his lip. "He was happy today."

"I suppose."

"Then he should visit more often!" Draco beamed and Severus, Mordred take him, smiled back and tried to ignore the tightness in his chest.

 

The Potter kitchen had always been the center of the family life. James had never quite lost his voracious teenage appetite and Harry had inherited the Seeker metabolism. The two of them would often stay up late, consuming massive amounts of vitals while pouring over plans and papers. By default Lily would be there as well, the only one able to prepare said food.

"Oi! The Quidditch league is starting up again in the spring. " Harry thumped the newspaper down on the table. "They've asked me to send out the opening Snitch!"

"Wonderful!" James said around a mouthful of eggs. "Can we get tickets?"

"I imagine they'll give us a box." Harry sat down hard in a chair and dug into the wonderfully greasy breakfast in front of him. "Thanks, Mum."

"Your welcome darling." She kissed him lightly on the temple, before producing a tightly wrapped scroll sporting the Ministry seal. "This came for you this morning."

"Oh. Do you think...." The unspoken fear filled the room.

"Well, we won't know till you open it." James said with false joviality.

With a sigh, Harry broke the seal and unraveled the parchment. His eyes flickered behind his glasses, expression unreadable. Finally, he set it down.

"They want me to the be the new Minister. Fudge is being officially deposed this time tomorrow." Glasses came off and he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Lily and James exchanged a look, but both came up empty. Their son was hardly a child with his graying hair and years of battle command, but this was too much, surely for a twenty one year old.

"Will you do it?" Lily asked quietly. Harry smiled weakly at her.

"I don't see that I have a choice. If I don't, they'll find someone else, someone less qualified and maybe someone just as corrupt as Fudge." He stood and paced wearily. "There's no time to find someone perfectly suited for the job and I find myself singularly unemployed. If I really think about it, I don't really have much of a choice in a job right about now. "

"I'm sure there's someone..."

"No, Mum. This is something I have to do." He managed a grim smile. "I should probably go. I can't imagine how much there is to do."

"All right, don't work to hard. Remember they need you more then you need them." James said gruffly pulling his only child into a hug.

"Sure, Dad." But Harry wasn't too sure about that.

They finished breakfast in silence.

"Where's Siri?" James asked when the dishes were washed and there was nothing left to say.

"Where do you think? I heard him get up early this morning and Apperate." She brushed a kiss against his cheek. "Be sure to get him to eat something, I swear he's wasting away."

Without further warning, James Apperated away landing perfectly in the newest part of the oldest wizirding cemetery in the U.K. In the distance, a willowy figure, long black hair wispy from the breeze, stood on a grave and stared down incomprehension.

Sirius didn't even react when James laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, Siri. It's time to go home."

"Why did they all have to die, Jamie? Why all of them...."

The gravestone in front of them was for Remus, who'd fallen in one of the first true battles. In the area that Sirius scanned also boasted the graves of Arabella Figg, Sirius' fiance, they would have married a mere few days after she was killed at Bath and Evan Bulstrode, a good friend to them all. Even Peter was buried a few feet away, the word Betrayer his scanty legacy.

And others, a whole three acres of those they had once known and spoken too and made plans with. It was something they were all dealing with, but it seemed to have hit Sirius particularly hard. Since wheedling Regulus out of the Death Eaters and into giving them information, Sirius' loves had died one after the other. First Remus who had been Sirius' dearest friend, then Arabella who he'd planned a long and happy life with. The Marauders had been decimated, leaving only the two of them and there wasn't a day that went by that James didn't expect to hear Remus' shy comments or Peter's tentative laugh.

"I don't know, Siri. I really don't."

"So much pain and death all because of one old power hungry fuck." The anger was old and tired. "I want to die, Jamie. I think. I'd like to just go to sleep and not wake up."

"Oh, Merlin, Sirius don't say that. Please." Jamie pulled him into a tight hug. There was barely any response and he could feel how very frail his old friend had become. Nothing more then bones and skin. "You can't leave me."

"You've got Lily and Harry. Oh, Jamie, all I've got is a few solid memories and a family by proxy. After Remy and Bella....I lived to fight, to take down that shit, but now...I'm a hollowed shell, Jamie. There's no love or caring left in me. I don't want to be a ghost before I'm dead."

"Please, Siri...." Jamie suppressed tears. "Don't make me lose you too."

Sirius pulled out of the embrace.

"The Sirius you knew and cared for died a long time ago. He's here among the gravestones with every smile and shred of optimism. I'm all that's left." He shook his shaggy head. "Take me home, Prongs. I have some things to take care of."

For lack of anything better, James Apperated them back to Godric's Hollow. Sirius disappeared up to his room and James flew to find Lily. Together they'd figure something out. They always did.

Snape slammed another volume shut and rubbed at reddening eyes. Across from him, Ron was sleeping, his cheek pillowed on the books. They had pushed through the day, attempting to wring the last of the information from useless texts. Piles of parchments with notes in his tight handwriting littered his workroom.

The man across from the table wheezed a little in his sleep and turned restlessly. The crazed spikes had been deflated for the day, lying in a messy pile across dictating parchment. There was no sense in waking him. Ginny had promised to come pick him up in the morning after seeing how much they were determined to get done.

"Wingadium Mazalosa."

Ron rose gently from his seat and promptly curled into a ball in midair. Using his wand as a lead, he brought the slumbering body into the bedroom he'd once hoped would be Draco's. He settled him into the bed and after a moment's thought, summoned a blanket and let it drift over the prone young man. He stood for a long moment, watching the chest rise and fall. The strange eyes covered and muted, leaving the battered, scarred body behind.

"Good night, Ron." He said softly, turning to go.

"Night, Severus." Came the slurred reply. Snape turned tight on his heels, but there was no sense of movement. Hesitantly, he left, missing the slight curl of a smile on Ron's lips before he slid into deeper sleep.

Severus retreated, bemused and exhausted to his own bedroom where Draco was already nested among the blankets.

"Move over." He commanded. In his sleep, Draco obeyed, moving slowly to one side. Satisfied, he changed rapidly into loose black sleep pants and shirt, before moving into the pre-warmed bed. Once he was settled, Draco moved again, cuddling into his side, one arm around the stuffed Crup Severus had give to him on his sixth birthday.

This was not the life young Severus had been expecting to live by the time he was forty, but it would do.

The morning was das disgustingly domestic. He woke to an empty bed, typical. Draco rarely slept past six. The petit blond was already digging into a house-elf delivered breakfast. Ron was sitting groggily next to him, spikes completely deflated, in a strange haphazard pattern of red stripes against stubbled scalp. He picked restlessly at the meal in front of him, but seemed much more concentrated on the large cup of coffee. The eyes were red rimmed around the silver.

"Awake early then?"

"I don't sleep much anymore." Was the terse reply. "We're done, aren't we?"

"What do you mean?" Severus calmly buttered his toast and sipped at well-sugared cup of tea.

"We've read all the texts, there's nothing to find. You're classes begin in three months or so. Thanks for your time, but I might as well face it. I'm going to live and die a ward of the state."

"Save the melodramatics." He neatly bit and chewed into one dripping toast point. "I have no intention on giving up because a few musty books don't have the answers. And as far as your worries about my classroom, I assure you all is in hand. I have all of my original lesson plans safely preserved and the classroom needs little updating. "

"What do you plan to do then?"

"Test, prod and poke. I hoped to find the answers in books so as not to turn to more...brutish...methods, but there seems to be no way around it. " He nibbled again and took a long warming sip of tea. "It would help if you were to consider spending some of your nights here, so that I may observe your reactions. As well you know, some potions take longer to take effect then others."

"You'd be willing to put me up?"

"Of course. If I solve this, I shall be immortalized. That's worth you cluttering up my apartments for few short days."

"I slept in Draco's room last night....isn't he going to be put out?"

The blond in question was cheerfully dipping his hash browns into the jam and devouring them.

"Draco prefers to sleep with me." Silver eyes widened and a flicker of contempt passed over his face. " I will thank you to keep your disgusting thoughts to yourself. Draco's nightmares are very vivid and if left to his own devises, he barely sleeps."

"Oh." There was a long silence, filled with Draco's humming. "I'm sorry...I've spent a long time thinking the worst of everyone. It's a hard habit to unlearn."

"I know."

"It will be nice to be here, anyway. It's a lot quieter."

"I imagine a half dozen Weasleys make something of an unbearable racket."

"Yes, but no just that....you and Draco.. you're thoughts are quieter. Especially his." He nodded in the cheerful blonde's directions. "Everything is fairly simple in there and you simply don't let yourself loose control. All your emotions are quiet, even the powerful one. My family is all passions and loose ends. It gets very...loud."

"I can see how that would be." The knock startled them all. Draco was gone in a blur, the bedroom door slamming behind him.

"Must be Ginny."

Severus answered with little aplomb.

"Ah. Ms. Weasley. There has been a change in plan. You're brother will not be returning with you."

"What?!"

"I'm fine, Ginny." Ron rose unsteadily and picked his way through the room to his sister's side. "Just a new phase of research. Could you pack some clothes and things for me and bring them here?"

"But..." Her unease spiked and bled away.

"I'm a big boy, Ginny. I can make my own decisions."

"Of course." But Ron felt her waffling.

"I was a Lt. General of the Third Troop, Virginia. I think I can choose where I sleep at night. Now go home and get my things together. And send someone else with them, I don't think I want to see you for a while."

"But..."

"I believe he has made himself clear, Ms. Weasley. Remove yourself from my door."

Years haven't dimmed the Professor Snape command power and she did remove herself.

"Thanks."

"Mmmm." Snape turned back to the worktable. "Come, I have the first of several diagnostics to run."

"Please, Regulus. We've run out of ideas."

"Glad to know that I'm a last resort." Was the bitter retort. Hermione squeezed his hand.

"But you might know something, anything...it's like he's got no will to live."

"If that's true then there's certainly nothing I can do." He moved to the window and in the dying light, James had to blink to shake away the image of a younger Sirius. "I may not know my brother well, but if he is determined to die then he has truly no reason left to live."

"How can you say that!" James demanded. "He was the most vital, fun-loving..."

"That's just it. I always thought that Sirius' lust for life would get him through the hardest times, but no matter how strong the spirit....there's a breaking point, Mr. Potter. It sounds like Sirius reached his a long time ago. It wouldn't surprise me if he's been staying alive for you, Lily and Harry for a long time now. If you really love him," He shivered and Hermione touched his arm lightly, "then let him go."

"I can't accept that."

"Then be prepared to watch him die a slow rotting death." He buried himself in warm safety of his fiancƒ¬e's arms. "He's survived so much, Mr. Potter. Why force him to live out a life that will always be empty?"

It was so close to Sirius' own words that James shivered. Without another word, he left, leaving the couple behind to soothe each other.

Ginny's angry return home shook the house as she railed against irresponsible brothers and nasty old potions masters. As she ranted and raved, he emerged from his room and walked down the hall. Ron's bedroom was unlocked and unwarded to his great surprise.

The whole room was cloaked in darkness and it took a moment for Percy to realize the shutters were locked shut. He forced them open and cracked the windows to air out the clinging smell of must. He knew that his mother wouldn't stand for dust or close air, but he had a feeling that Ron's combative nature had been showing in more ways then one.

Little had changed here since Ron had gone off to Hogwarts' to begin his training. The same Chudley Cannons posters and ageing banners hung on the walls. The same small collections of third-rate drawings done by Bill and Charlie of their many adventures were piled in a bin marked: Correspondence. All the blankets and curtains were red with gold trim with the quiet anticipation of Gryffindor sorting that was never to be.

Quickly, he packed a small trunk with the necessities for a trip. He found only an endless series of black robes in every kind of fabric. Well, Percy hadn't totally missed out on his family's strain of mischief. Besides, this was for a good cause. Whispered spells brought far more gentle and flattering soft browns and creams. Short sleeves too and bulky sweaters. Amenities were easily found in the bathroom, carefully charmed to speak their purpose.

With a miniaturizing spell, he packed the suitcase into his pocket. A clutch took him by surprised and he collapsed onto the bed, hand over his heart as it beat out painfully four, five times, before containing normally again. The spikes of heat and ice in his blood pulsed in ugly patterns.

"Percy?" Ginny hung in the door. "Are you all right?"

"Fine." He croaked. "Just fine."

"Are you sure? You look..."

"Yes. I packed Ron's case. If you don't mind, I'll take it."

After a long studying look, she nodded. To avoid further complications, he Apperated from the spot to Hogsmeade. He'd use the floo at the Saucy Kettle after he'd had some of Marta's impossibly good stew and strengthening lager. The whole walk there it seemed like his heels were attached to his heart and every step yanked it impossibly hard.

By the time he sat down to eat, a light second skin of cold sweat clung to his clothes and dampened his hair. Marta left him to his stew, showing that her famed policy of non-interaction was just as good as her cooking. The good heat solid heat of meat and potatoes helped to unwind the steel bands around his heart and the lager disintegrated the shards of glass in his veins.

When it came time to floo, he was presentable. And that mattered. No need to worry the only friends he had left in the world. Time enough for that when he was truly incapacitated.

"Look, I don't care what it takes, I want it on my desk by five. I refuse to let crazed Aurors loose on the world."

"But sir...."

"No! The violence is over. I want these people brought to justice without bloodshed."

The new Minister of Magic was not what anyone in power had expected. When you hired a general, you expected military, order and a strict set of careful ideals. Instead, they had this passionate peace crazed child!

Harry regarded the Heads of the Departments. Behind his glasses, green eyes twinkled merrily and a smile twitched at both corners of his mouth.

"Well, gentlemen and ladies. I suspect there is going to be a whole lot of change around here."

The same thought struck them all at once. They'd inadvertently hired Dumbledore's bred and selected heir. The deflation was so rapid that Harry's twitching lips lost the battle and broke out in a wide smile. The past half-year melted away. He had purpose, determination and a lot of work to be done.

"First, I want to order a retraining of all field agents on the new rights of all wizards and witches regarding search and seizure. I'd also like to have a Ministry wide meeting to re-evaluate all wartime laws. I think some of them are about to become seriously updated."

"But sir, there's still some clean up going on..."

"The war is over, Mrs. Grace. I suggest that unless you want to clean out your desk, you accept that."

"Oh." The prim Head of Tandem Magics gasped.

"I want to make one thing perfectly clear." And here was the General they wanted. "I have a lot of issues with this government and I am not afraid to fire every last person here if that's what it takes to make it a viable peace time organization. Do I make myself clear?"

Everyone nodded at once.

"Good. This meeting is adjourned. "

They scurried out, already whispering and planning among themselves. When they were all gone, he nodded at the corner. A shiver in the air revealed Ron, his spikes flattened from the short stint under one of Lily's invisibility cloaks.

"Most of them were just surprised. Even Mrs. Grace was taken aback, but not truly angry. Look out for the Departments of Experimental Magics and Travel. The Aurors are going to need a thorough investigation."

Harry grinned.

"That silver gloss can be pretty handy."

"Sure, mate. Look I promised Snape I'd be back as soon as I could. The Dragonsbane only delays a few hours."

"My floo is your floo."

"Harry...."

"Don't tell me you can't floo by yourself."

A soft sigh was his only reply.

"Merlin, Ron, I'm sorry."

"No more then I am." The bitterness was light, but unmistakable.

"I didn't think sight would affect flooing..."

"I can't be sure I've wound up in the right place. And it's not easy to get back if you're not sure where you came out from." The red head sighed, hard. "Would you mind...?"

"Not at all."

They flooed together to Snape's lab where Dumbledore had kindly aided a floo connection in deference to recent traffic there. Ron barely avoided a complete sprawl on the floor. Harry helped to him to his feet.

"King!"

Harry rounded, searching for the childish voice. A gorgeous blond was playing checkers with a faintly bemused Percy Weasley by a merrily burning fire in a small fireplace. The table between them had been designed for chess, but was cheerfully dotted with red and black. Snape sat in high backed chair nearby the game, a book propped in his lap, his eyes lost in the flame.

"Fine, there." Percy plopped another red disc onto Draco's triumphant one. "But I still say you cheat."

"You're just a bad loser."

"Draco." Snape admonished from the chair. The blond pouted.

"Didn't cheat."

"Yes, you did. And you got caught. What have I told you about that?"

"Never cheat if someone can catch you."

"Hasn't Percy always caught you?"

"Yes." Draco pouted, but seemed to take the lesson to heart.

Percy rolled his eyes and the game continued with Snape back to his book. It was...almost homey. Harry watched, a little bemused himself as Ron slumped down into the chair next to Snape's and began to a mumbled conversation.

"Are you just going to stand there, Minister? Or are you going to sit and take your beating from my son like a man?"

"What?"

"Harry plays checkers?" Grey eyes lit up.

"Well, I mean...a long time ago..."

"Good. Sit." Percy stood and stretched. "Let someone else get beaten to a pulp. I'm going to find out where our tea got to."

Harry sat, played and lost. Three times to Draco's triumphant grin and settled into a strange, but welcoming feeling of the dark Slytherin study with all of it's shadowy broken occupants. When the third game ended and someone pressed a hot cup of tea into his hand.

Ron and Snape seemed off in their own world, speaking in the complex ribbons of theory as their subjects overlapped. Watching his friend, Harry had odd flashes back to the war when they had poured over maps with similar diligence and Ron introducing the newest innovation in the same jumble of jargon.

Percy seemed content to sip his tea while Draco sat at his feet braiding long, colorful strings into tangled patterns. And Harry had to wonder how many times they sat like this before, after a night spent in the hands of darkness.

As warm and safe as he felt here, he knew enough to see that it wasn't his home.

"Good night then."

"You're leaving?" Ron cast a glance that found him unerringly.

"Minister's work is never done and all. I'll see you later."

"Goodnight Harry!" Draco smiled shyly at him and Percy nodded gravely.

Reluctantly, he put down his cup and went to the floo. He had paper work to finish and then home to Godric's Hollow to ignore his parents' concerned stares and the walking mound of mourning that was his godfather.

"Please, Snape. You're my only hope."

Severus hadn't spoken in over a minute. He seemed frozen in shock.

"Uh, sir?" Ron nudged his frozen companion.

"I'm fine." Snapped the potions master. He turned to stare at the wreck of a man in front of him. "I'm not sure I heard you right."

"I want you to help me die. "

Age-old enemies stared at each other, unaware of how alike they looked with long black hair, pale skin and almost skeletal frames.

"I don't kill, Black. Go find someone else to pin your suicide too."

"No one else will help."

The stare down continued. Finally Snape sighed.

"I refuse, Black and believe it or not, it's nothing personal. I made up my mind a long time ago to never again help kill another person and I don't intend to break that because you've lost your will. "

"Snape....I...please...for Remus?"

The outbreak of violence was so rapid, that Ron only heard the fast smack of flesh against flesh.

"You will never take his name in my presence again. I will not kill you because of some bond you think we share..."

Ron stared. He groped blindly until he got a fist full of heavy robe and tugged hard.

"I can't 'see' him. I know he's there because I hear him, but otherwise...nothing. There's no one there."

"Intriguing." Snape regarded his archenemy wearily, letting the tension between them ease down and shaking the clinging hand from his robes.

"Go home, Sirius and if you value your life so little then find some Dread Flower, dry it, crush it and mix it in with your morning's pumpkin juice." He growled. "And for Merlin's sake, leave my name out of it. "

"Thank you." A faint whiff of release filled the air, but before Ron could ask him anything Sirius was gone.

"There goes a waste of a human being."

The voice was stiff with contempt, but Ron easily caught regret there and more then a little sadness. Snape turned to find his newest experiment looking very preoccupied and a world different from the Lt. General who'd taken up so much angry space on his first visit. Ron was outfitted in Percy's mischief, washed out jeans and a warm brown sweater that easily molded itself to the toughened body. The mohawk had died a coughing sad death as Ron gradually lost interest and distanced himself emotionally from the man he thought he was supposed to become. Two days ago, he'd taken a small dosage of a Malcolm's Hair in the Bottle. Now a fine river of Weasley red brushed unevenly past his shoulders.

"Better he should find an easy death then resort to some barbaric method."

"Yes....but I wish it could be different."

Snape hesitated, before gently setting a single hand on one strong shoulder.

"Wishes are all well and good, but better to succeed where he has failed and make do with what life has left us."

The hand was removed as swiftly as it was laid down, but Ron felt the fleeting warmth for long minutes after. Snape moved off to mix a new batch of Eye Peeling Cream with a heavier concentration of beetle antennas. In the corner of the lab, Percy was assisting Draco in creating a new Color Shift potion that the slender blond had been working on for months. Ron turned back to his task of reorganizing yellowed lecture notes with their worn tired Snapeish voices from before war times.

The four of them bustled around the lab with happy purpose and all the feelings of wasted days and time, frustrated aggression...they had all bled away. Ron let out a low, inaudible sigh and returned to the yellowed papers.

The board was still the same. Draco bit his lower lip and tried to figure out what was so different about things lately. He glanced around the chambers he lived in his whole life. Papa was frowning over some translation in his stiff backed chair and that was so typical that he almost lost the feeling entirely. Then long bone white fingers reached up to shove some hair out of black eyes, before Papa turned to Ron, who was ensconced on the far more comfortable couch, and asked him a question about the effect of Pediliectous Charm on Infidelity potions.

That was certainly different. Draco spared a moment to beam at his new housemate. Ron was great fun and made Papa less sulky at night. They talked like old friends and sometimes stayed up late into the night arguing over nit picky theories. But that has been going on for nearly two months now, so it wasn't what felt so abruptly different.

"Draco..." He turned to see Percy looking expectantly at him. "It's your turn."

"Right." The red and black pieces on the white and black board pulsed uneasily. With deliberate hesitation, he moved one piece, capturing four of Percy's. "King."

"Yes, your majesty." With feigned displeasure, Percy capped off his piece. "I don't know why you play with me when you can beat me so easily."

"Winning is fun." He smiled and felt that tiny falter of change again when Percy smiled back. It was such a strange smile with that long white scar, a twisted half attempt, but it made his heart stutter. Especially when those chocolate brown eyes caught his. Why did Percy look so much better then Ron when the two shared nearly the same face? "It's your turn now."

"Bratling." Percy muttered, but dutifully stared down at the board.

The game went on and segued into others, Draco's mind wandered. Was there something wrong with him? It was so hard to know. He'd never really wanted to leave the warm, damp confines of the dungeons, but when Percy left at night, he wanted to go with him. He wanted to see where his friend lived and ate. He knew that during the days, he mostly volunteered at St. Mungo's since he was living of his veteran's stipend like Ron.

Perplexed, he considered talking to Papa, but he felt oddly uncomfortable speaking with him about this. That only left Ron. Of course, Draco knew and tolerated the presence of most of the teachers at Hogwarts' and the Headmaster, but none of them ever spoke to him the way Ron, Percy or Papa did. Like a person and not some broken little boy.

He waited until Papa went back to his lab to check on thickening salve, leaving Ron buried in lecture notes.

"Ron?"

"Hmm?"

Draco paused, searching for the right words. His silence seemed to catch the red head's attention and soon eerie silver eyes found his own.

"I...I feel funny."

If Ron felt any surprise at hearing 'I' from Draco, he did a deft job at ignoring it. It wasn't that his speech was defunct as Papa would readily tell anyone who asked, Draco just felt more comfortable leaving himself out of his words entirely. Easier to fade away.

"Are you sick? Should I get Snape?"

"No! Not....sick. Like, strange funny." He shrugged helplessly. "Whenever Percy is here."

The odd liquid that was Ron's eyes rippled suddenly and small sad smile twitched at the ends of his lips.

"Oh, Draco. Come here."

A little frightened, but trusting his father's friend, Draco moved onto the couch and was surprised by a warm hand on his arm.

"What you're feeling...Draco....is something like love."

"But..."

"It's not yet, well...I don't know why. I'm not really an expert on these things." He sighed. "I'm actually fairly shit with them."

"Love?" Pale lids fluttered shut. He'd read about it, of course, but he'd never thought much of it as applying to himself. When his teenage hormones had kicked in, they scared him more then gave him pleasure thanks to his years with Riddle. Papa had helped him through it, which had been a fairly embarrassing time for the both of them and in the end, Draco found his own touch pleasing, but had never truly contemplated someone else involved with the whole thing.

"It's not that surprising, I guess." Ron went on, seemingly speaking to himself. "I mean, Percy and I are probably the first people vaguely you're age that you've had contact with all these years."

But I don't feel this way about you, Draco said to himself. And you're so like Percy except, for that angry, fearsome edge and the Silver Sight.

"What do I do?" He settled on.

"I don't really know." Ron sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll tell you what... let me talk to Percy first, all right? Merlin, I don't even know if he's into blokes."

"What?"

"Not every one is attracted to men." Ron explained patiently. "Didn't Snape tell you anything about all this?"

Draco shrugged.

"Yes. No... it wasn't easy to talk about." He willed Ron to understand.

"Well. Right. I mean, I suppose Snape's had a bit on the side at some point?" Draco stared at him blankly. "A women who visits at night or someone he meets outside?"

"No. But there is a picture hidden in one of the books where he's kissing another man. Not someone who's been here ever and it's yellowed."

"Oh..."

Severus Snape with a childhood romance....far too strange to contemplate... and yet, Ron felt saddened. Was that the Remus to whom Sirius had referred? But that man had been dead nearly a decade if he remembered correctly. That was too long for someone to go without love. Draco was a fine companion if one were interested purely in potions and checkers, but surely Snape with his quick mind and quicker tongue yearned for at least intellectual stimulation if not sexual? In the two months he had been here, the only people who'd come to the dungeon were other teachers.

"Draco?"

"Yes?"

"Even if I talk to Percy and find out that he.... fancies you. What then?"

The petit blond hugged his knees to his chest.

"Ask him to play checkers? I'm not stupid, Ron. I know I'm not good for much else." And the conviction and sadness behind those words were far too much. Ron dragged the smaller man to him and hugged him close.

"Don't ever say that. You're far from worthless, Draco. I think Snape might have died a long time ago without having you about. And the potions that you're 'playing' with are major breakthroughs in the field. Snape's been explaining some of them to me and they're far too complex for a layman like me to handle. So you're not the most social creature in the world, so what?" He snorted. "Besides, Percy's a few straws short of a broom himself."

"Really?"

"Merlin, Draco, he disappeared for six months without a word. He walks around the house some days reading Muggle literature and staring out windows, mouthing the words to himself. He's barely sleeping, according to Mom's owls and the patients he helps at St. Mungo's are the catatonics because he doesn't want to talk to anyone. I think the only time he's even vaguely happy is when he's here."

"Doesn't that worry you?"

The silence was heavy. Ron flickered through his most recent memories of Percy, the sense of despair and ruin when he arrived and the lightening of it while he played with Draco, the returning flicker every so often. When they speak together, he can practically taste it in the air.

"Yes. Very much so. And now I have as good a reason as any to speak to him."

"Ah. I see that Draco has convinced you that cuddling is more beneficial then work. It seems to be his sole goal in life." Snape drawled.

"We were having a man to man discussion. Right, Drake?"

"Yes." He said with the air of someone who was not sure what they were agreeing to.

"Of course." The sarcasm was laid on fairly thick on that one. "I believe it's time for us all to get some rest. Draco, go wash up."

The blond dutifully rose, leaving Ron feeling vaguely empty. He heard Snape settle back into his chair.

"Don't get his hopes up." And the hurt was so obvious that Ron had to fight the sudden, creepy urge to cuddle Snape. "He's suffered enough..."

"You can't keep him locked up forever, you know." He replied gently. "If you do, someone's just going to take him where you can't be any help at all."

"I want to spare him. Shouldn't someone have a life unspoiled?"

The bitterness echoed between them as Ron discarded half a dozen pat answers.

"It's not your choice any more. He's finally growing up and one day he's going to want to see the world. Every parent deals with it eventually, you just got the good part for longer. My mom would kill to have one of us still ten years old, bony and covered in dirt."

"Draco was never a particularly dirty child." Snape said vaguely. "Perhaps, you're right as much as it pains me to admit it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm to bed."

The maelstrom of emotions left in the room as Snape sauntered out kept Ron firmly planted on the couch, watching the fire for an extra half hour before he went tangle with the elusive dragon of sleep.

The draught was made, the deed was done, and the letters were in neat piles by his bedside. It was all so easily done, this ending of a life...but it had gone on to long.

James would forgive him in time.

He closed his eyes as he drank and all he could see was Arabella's mischievous smile and Remus' winking eyes.

"Oh. Oh!" Hermione stared wide-eyed into the sink. The test stared back. "Oh, sweet Merlin."

Stunned into a rare silence, she backed out of the small room slowly and made her way downstairs where Regulus was sipping his first cup of tea and reading the newspaper.

"Good morning, luv." He gave her a quick smile before returning back to his paper. Stiffly, she went to stove and poured her own cup of solace. Slowly, she sat at the table and stared blankly at the wall. "All right, what is it? You look positively ill."

"I...I...I'm pregnant."

Regulus stared at her in stunned silence for a long moment. And then he let out a whoop of joy. In a quick move, he pulled her from her chair and spun her around the room, laughing all the while. His happiness was contagious and soon she was giggling too, their whole house shook with gales of laughter.

The wedding was only a month away and now it couldn't come a moment too soon.

"We're going to be a real family, aren't we?"

"Oh, yes!" She hugged him hard.

It was a new beginning and the day outside was fresh with promise.

Maybe the world was salvageable after all.

The shower was supposed to have calmed him down. Ron was still standing on the sluice of hot water, petting the wonder that had just occurred. Since the war had ended...no, since before even that. Since Blaise had coughed out his last bloodied breath in his trembling arms, Ron hadn't thought much of sex at all.

In fact, he hadn't had so much of a stirring in his nether regions in over a year. And now, the evidence was clear beneath his fingers that something had broken that unprecedented stretch. Merlin knew what. Ron had learned long ago that his cock had a mind of its own. Instead of analyzing, he decided to just take advantage of it. Perhaps a good orgasm would leave him weak enough to sleep, easing his mind of uncomfortable thoughts.

He found the demanding rhythm he'd always preferred on himself. It didn't take long with his long period of abstinence, a final tug on the silver ring looped on the end was enough to bring him to a body-shaking end.

The shower tiles flickered into view. Huh, he thought, it's moldier in here then I....

And then it flickered back to blackness.

"What the fuck?"

It sunk in slowly. He had seen. His eyes, however briefly had worked. Somehow the force of his orgasm had triggered something. The muscle spasms...

Delirious with joy, he groped his way out of the bathroom and down the hall. He knew that Snape's bedroom was within though he had never gone in. Courtesy had left his vocabulary and he slammed open the door.

"Snape! It's a fucking muscle! A muscle!"

"mfgshk...whatinbloodyhell..."

"The whole fucking time we've been thinking my eyes are so much silver jelly and they're still there! And functioning!"

"Lumos. What are you babbling about you idiot.....why are you naked!"

Ron felt a hot flash of embarrassment flush his whole body, but didn't let that deter him.

"The Silver Sight isn't a curse! That's why the books don't talk of any one getting hexed with it. It's all workable! You just need to strengthen the muscle. People weren't trying to figure out what caused it to stop it! They were trying to replicate it!"

"And how did you figure this out!"

"Complete muscle spasm! I saw for about...oh, three or four seconds. But that was enough. Do you have a stimulant around here? I could probably copy the results..."

"I will agree to help you, even though it is an unseemly hour of the night, on one condition."

"Yes, sir?" Ron fairly vibrated with anticipation.

"Go put some bloody clothes on, heathen."

Blushing, he turned to go, but not before he glanced back at the bed. There was a muddy, sleepy curiosity from Draco and....low boiling anger, the remains of happy sleepiness and a lazy swirl of lust coming from Snape. Hands on the wall to return to his room, Ron's mind bubbled with confusion and excitement.

Clothing on and emotions temporarily forgotten, they worked well past dawn, replicating Ron's discovery. It would take several more days to pinpoint the exact blend that would exercise the muscle until Ron could control it, but it was a tremendous leap. By the time they were both ready to collapse back into bed, Ron had his sight back for six seconds at a time, long enough to make out thinning shadows.

"Thank you. Oh, Merlin thank you." Ron gushed and in his fervor, he threw his arms around the bony potions master.

"Yes, well, fame and all that....." He made no attempt to break away, but stood stiff as a board.

"Git." Ron mumbled affectionately and without warning laid a soft kiss on thin lips. "Good night."

He didn't need Silver Sight to feel Snape's confusion or hear his heart race.

We're all of us broken, he thought as he settled into his empty bed, but perhaps we don't have to be alone too.

After a moment's pause, Snape returned to his own bed to find Draco already beginning his morning routine.

"Good morning, Papa."

"Mm." He shucked off his over robe and climbed into bed.

"Papa?"

"Mm?"

"Why does Ron have an earring in his penis?"

For the first time in memory, Snape ignored his son and pulled the covers over his head.

The announcement came that evening, eliminating any hopes Ron might have had of talking to either Percy or Snape. Instead, he was shuffling through his wardrobe, commanding the items to speak, hoping to find something left black in his wardrobe. Silent, angry tears coursed down his face, which he blithely ignored. He hadn't known Sirius that well, only seen him around the Potters' over long hot summers. He had been nice enough, but life had kicked him around a lot and to a kid still innocent to the ugliness of loss, Ron hadn't thought much of him.

But death had become such a regular visitor and every new one reminded him of the last. Each funeral was a hard throbbing echo of all those that came before. He let the tears fall, ignoring each drop even as he found and wrestled into his remaining black outfit. It was his battle gear, but it would be fitting enough. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if Harry came similarly attired as well as some of those who had worked under Sirius command.

"Ready then?" Snape asked gruffly from the door.

"Suppose." He wiped half-heartedly at his face.

"Merlin." And before Ron could react there was a soft brush of fingertips on his cheek that ended as swiftly as it began. "This certainly wasn't in the books."

"What? Am I turning colors?"

"In a manner of speaking." The wonder flowed from Snape. "Your tears are silver. It doesn't seem to be affecting the Sight itself. Whatever this substance really is, it's in your tear ducts."

"Weird. Think we can skip the funeral and experiment with it?" He sniffed hopefully. Snape paused as if it was something he was actually contemplating.

"Albus will be there." He said regretfully. "He made me promise to come."

"If he told you to jump off a bridge would you?"

"What type of ridiculous question is that?"

"Dunno, actually. My mom used to ask Charlie that all the time when he did stupid stunts with his friends." He blew his nose in a ripped up glove he found in one pocket.

"Well, it's patently ridiculous." A short pause. "Enough dithering. We've a funeral to attend."

Where Harry had had no issue holding Ron tightly to him as they flooed, Snape seemed content to wrap one arm around his shoulders. And for some reason, it felt intensely more intimate. They landed in an abandoned cottage and Snape wasted no time in dragging Ron through the graveyard.

"Wait." He froze suddenly. There was a scent in the breeze. Something so familiar that he could not ignore it. Carefully, he stumbled away from Snape tracing the scent. When the heavy smell of ginger became concentrated, he sank to his knees, fingers finding the headstone and traced the letters. It was the right one.

"Blaise Zabini." Snape was behind him and Ron nodded slowly.

"I enchanted the grave to grow ginger root and amplify the smell. He used it to cook everything. When we were on missions together, I always brought extra canteens. " He snorted. "And naturally, he took to calling me Ginger. I thought it was fitting."

"I hadn't realized you two were close."

"I buried him alone." He sighed, bitterness long since passed. "He was a hero, but his parents considered him a traitor. There were others there, but it was in the height of the war and many who liked him were dead long before...."

"You were very close then."

The tears were gone for now, but his breath hitched any way.

"He was the closest thing I've had to love." With an affectionate pat on the headstone and another deep, reassuring breath of ginger, he rose and brushed the dirt from black leather.

"You don't seem.... heart broken."

"I said closest, not was. We were good together and if he had lived.... but he didn't. So I let go. I'll always miss him, but he'd pissed if he knew I spent my life pining for him."

"Ah." Snape cleared his throat and Ron was startled to find a tight wave of relief coming off the man. "Shall we off then or are there others here you'd wish to visit?"

"None today..." He curled a gentle finger around his left ear, six earrings clicked together. "I have them all with me."

They walked on in silence, one of Snape's bony hands tucked gently under Ron's left elbow. As soon as they came close to the site, Ron felt his headache rise. He sucked in a breath as collective mourning hit him at full force. Two months of being sheltered in the dungeon had undone all his carefully built up tolerance.

"Are you all right?" Was the concerned hiss in his ear. He nodded vaguely.

"Ron?" His father quickly enveloped him in a hard hug. A vague sadness transferred over, but it was overwhelmed by anxiety. "How are things progressing?"

"We made a large discovery only yesterday." He reassured.

"And will you come home when you're done? Your Mother is sure that you're starving to death..."

"I.... I don't know." He pulled away, his fingers searching for Snape's helping hand and finding it. "It may be a while..."

"I see." Was the tight reply. "Just remember to write more often."

"Yes, sir." He said dutifully.

When his father was gone, he heaved a sigh of relief.

"It would appear your father would do well to hear the same speech you gave me last night." Snape commented wryly.

"He's heard it. Four times from four different offspring. Still hasn't stuck. Mum isn't around is she?"

"No. It is...a rather poor turn out, all things considered. The Potters, your father and I believe either William or Charles...."

"Burn mark on the left hand?"

"No."

"That's Bill then. Who else?"

"A few Aurors...friends of the late Ms.Figgs, I believe. Ms. Granger and Mr. Black's brother... that seems to be all."

"Oh, I should probably say hello to 'Mione." But he made no attempt to move. The graveyard seemed saturated in sorrow and he wanted nothing more then to stand by Snape who's emotions were quiet and familiar.

"I'm sure that once you are in her sights, there will be no escape."

"How do you know that?"

"She reminds me of Minerva."

It almost sounded like a compliment.

Luck was with him and the service started before Hermione could fight her way to his side. It was Albus who spoke the simple wizard traditions over the grave and who threw the first symbolic handful of dirt. Everyone present followed his lead and when all had littered the coffin with earth, they chanted the covering spell together, leaving the grave level with the others around it.

The Potters were hosting the Life Celebration at their home, but Ron had no desire to finish the day entrapped in conversation with one of the other mourners. Harry came over and they spoke softly for a few minutes. They hugged and parted ways. Hermione did catch up with him and there among the gravestones told him about the baby.

"That's....wow. Oh, wow, 'Mione!" He hugged her, lifting her clear off the ground.

"Ron! You're just as bad as Regulus. Any one would think you were the father."

"I once came damn close...."

"Hush now, that was a long time ago. Of course we want you to be the godfather."

"What...but...Harry?"

"Harry's far too busy these days. And besides, you know he'll have his own family just as soon as he can."

"Are you implying that I won't?"

"Ron...." Her agitation hit like a ton of bricks.

"I'm just taking the piss. I'd be happy to be the little bugger's godfather."

"Good!"

"Hermione? Are you ready to go? Hello, Ron."

"Regulus. Congratulations! Am I to assume the wedding is going to go on as planned?"

"Of course." They shook hands and Ron put just enough squeeze in it to make up for the fact he couldn't stare the man down.

"Ronald Weasley!" 'Mione scolded after he released Regulus. "I'd thank you not to break the father of my child."

"Yes, Ms. Granger." He replied meekly. "I'll just go find my escort."

"Oh, Ron."

They hugged again and he inhaled the soft lavender smell of her. She was going to be a great mother. And the brainy fuzzy child would be his to steal on weekends and spoil absolutely rotten. It sounded glorious.

"Hello, Professor." Hermione greeted upon releasing him.

"Ms. Granger, Mr. Black. If you'll excuse us, Ronald and I have research to do." He spoke in a tone that brooked no argument. If Ron had tried to back out of the ceremony by himself, Hermione would have scolded him roundly then dragged him there by his ear.

As they beat their hasty retreat, Ron let the day hit him completely. The overwhelming emotions crashed through him, leaving his knees week and his head aching. When they landed in the cool embrace of the dungeon, he felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He hurried to shuck off the battle robes and curl into a well-worn green jumper and a pair of frayed jeans. Once upon a time, he had slept, ate and fought in those black leathers and now.. he threw them to the back of his closet. He never wanted to wear them again.

"Ron?"

"What is it Drake?" He found himself in surprise hug for the umpteenth time that day. "What was that for?"

"You looked like you needed it." The release was by stages and by the time they were fully separated, he felt worlds better. "There's some lunch. Come on."

Percy had intended to go to Sirius' funeral, if for no other reason then that the man had been a war veteran and one of the few in the Order who knew of his spy life. Yet when he woke up this morning, he discovered he wasn't going anywhere. It was the worst attack ever. His heart pounded raggedly for nearly twenty minutes and the glass shards in his veins were sharper and dug in deeper then ever before.

It left him drenched sweat and clutching for purchase against the soaked sheets. When he felt sufficiently recovered, he took a long shower. Dried and dressed, he sat in the window, a book of Auden's poetry on his lap and watching the sun sink. Darkness blanketed the room and he stood, stretched and moved quietly through the house. Flooing into the dungeon eased the last hard clutches at his heart.

"...but if the properties are the same then theoretically, I could wipe it off on someone and they would have Sense. Why didn't anyone else figure this out?"

"Sight is the least common....perhaps, no one discovered the property. I'm not convinced that this will give any one the Sense...."

"They've been at this for hours." Draco appeared at his side. "Checkers?"

"All right." He grinned at the younger man. The white-gold beauty beamed back, gray eyes warm with feeling.

A part of him wanted Draco quite desperately. He could freely admit that the strange innocence tangled with the brilliant mind of a master were extremely attractive. In the long years since Hogwarts, there had been no one in Percy's life. There was no blaming it on his hectic wartime life, if anything it had been easier to find someone to share your bed when death waited in every dawn. He'd simply cut himself off from that part of his life. His Hogwarts' sweetheart hadn't even made it through the end of her training. A particularly nasty mistake during a mock duel saw her in a grave two years before Percy signed up as a spy.

And Draco was a child in a man's body. A beautiful body to be sure, but still incongruous with the mind it housed. He doubted that Draco could ever leave Hogwarts, let alone be in an adult relationship.

"Percy, your turn." Draco drew him back and soon they were once more engaged in another checkers battle. The blond played so fiercely and with so much thought that it was rarely a fair game.

"I am teaching you chess." Percy threatened as the younger man easily took another game. "I can deanimate the board."

"But..." Grey eyes widened.

"You obviously have enough skill at checkers to do just fine at something new and I can soothe my injured pride by actually beating you at something for a while."

"Only a while?"

"You'll be winning in no time." And it was true. There was no way Draco wouldn't be an excellent chess player.

"Drake beat you again?" Ron entered, clicking his tongue. "You're lucky I haven't told Dad. He'd be so ashamed."

"Like to see you beat him."

"Sorry. Never saw the board." He threw him a wayward grin before curling into his usual spot on the couch. "Could probably play a fairly decent bit of chess though."

"Play you? Do I look stupid? Eye sight or no, you haven't lost a game since Mom agreed to join the family tournament six years ago."

"That woman is a menace on a chess board." The grin widened. "But I guess you're right. I haven't gotten to play in a while anyway. Hermione gave up in fourth year."

"Your arrogance never ceases to amaze me." Snape drawled from the doorway.

"At least it's rooted in truth."

"You only keep winning because you've been playing simpering idiots."

"And I suppose you'll put me in my place?"

"Mmmm."

Percy and Draco watched the exchange wide eyed.

"You know, I think I can deanimate your board, Professor." Percy offered. "I wanted to teach Draco with it, anyway."

It was swiftly done and two powerful opponents faced off. Ron's amazing grasp of the game mechanics easily allowed for his handicap. He could move the pieces through vocal commands which Percy had left in place and keep the board structure in his head. Snape took every advantage. It was an intensely interesting game... or would have been had they not each spent twenty minutes contemplating every move. Draco fell asleep with his head in Percy's lap and the older man felt his own eyelids grow heavy by the time Ron cried out a triumphant,

"Check and mate!"

"Blast." Snape scowled at the board. "How did you do that?"

"Family secret." Was the mysterious reply.

"Bullshit. Dad told it to me and it hasn't helped my game any." Percy stretched carefully, unwilling to dislodge his companion. "Besides, you never do the same thing twice."

"Mmm. That's what you think." He rose, cracking his back. "Could I talk to you before you leave? There are a few things I need from home."

Snape took his cue, mustering a sleepy Draco from the couch and herding him to their bedroom. Ron took his place next to his brother.

"What is it then?"

"I talked to Draco a few nights ago..."He sighed. "And I thought this was going to be a really different speech then at the beginning of this evening."

"What are you talking about?"

"Draco...he's in love with you, Percy and I'm beginning to see that that feeling may not be wholly unreturned."

"What? But...he can't love me."

"Why not?" Ron demanded.

"A million and one reasons....he's practically a child for one!"

"He's not and you know it. You know what he's capable of..."

"I didn't say he wasn't capable. Hell, he could take over the wizarding world with some of the things he's been tinkering with. But his emotions are so regressed..."

"No more then yours." Ron returned tartly. "You've not had a decent talk with anyone since you were five."

"That's not true."

"Oh come off it, Percy. What's the real reason you've got your knickers in a twist?" He shook his head. " I can see how you feel, I know you love him."

"That's not the point!" The older man jumped from his place on the couch and paced restlessly. "Love doesn't conquer all."

"He's as much of an adult as you and I are. So feed me another. What else is so problematic?"

"Fuck, Ron. Just leave it."

"Percival J. Weasley! I will not just leave it.... There's been so little happiness going around lately, I just don't understand why you won't take yours!"

"BECAUSE I'M DYING!"

The silence was deafening.

"What?"

"Bloody fucking hell." The couch sagged again. "I didn't mean to...shit."

"How can you be dying?" Not again, oh sweet Merlin. Hadn't they lost enough?

"It's a hex. When Voldemort was cornered at the very end, he figured someone must have betrayed him so he hexed the lot us who were there in the end. Most of them died in the last battles anyway, but the rest... If I had taken the Mark, I'd be dead by now. Luckily, Snape convinced him that I was more valuable as a spy without it." An aggravated breath of air. "It's given me a few more months. But the attacks are longer now and stronger. "

"Haven't you tried to get a cure?"

"I've been to every specialist I could find. Six months of searching."

"You son of a bitch. You came home to die on us." Ron spat vehemently. "You would have lingered about for a few more months and told us when?"

"I figured about when the spasms got to bad." He put in lamely. "It seemed like the right idea at the time."

"I'm going to tell Mom and Dad if you don't." Ron warned. "They deserve to know."

"All right."

"And Draco."

"No!"

"Percy.... I'd give anything for a few months of happiness. Would you deprive him of that? At least give him and yourself that."

"You..." The anger drained out of the older man all at once as Ron knew it would. Of all of them, Percy was the easiest to calm because he was most often irritated. The rest of them were volcanoes, deceptively calm then erupting in an endless violent flow. "That silver shit's given you a real gift you know."

"Yeah, I guess. Are we going to hug now?"

They did, briefly and slightly awkwardly. As they pulled away, Ron cast a glance to the doorway. No one there...but a lingering feeling of his own.

"I'd best be going home." The elder man stood in disjointed motion. "Mum and Dad will still be awake, I think."

"Good."

The soft touch caught him unaware.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

The hoarse choking laugh briefly filled the room.

"Nothing...nothing at all." And then he was alone.

 

Molly was still crying in the morning. The Weasley matriarch and patriarch had spent the whole night speaking in tired whispers, tears falling copiously. It was so hard to believe that they were going to lose another son. Her womb had been so full, so giving and now, greedy hands took her babies from her in every direction. Fred and George to the grave and Percy following. Ron had become a closed door to the both of them, Bill and Charlie turned to each other...even Ginny had grown restless and strange.

"How can we lose him? He's only just come home." Molly sniffed into a handkerchief.

"I don't know love, I don't know." Arthur held his wife in the crook of one arm, her tired head on his shoulder. So many times they had sat on their old couch and held each other like this to try and put the pieces of their lives back together. "It is not for certain anyway. There must still be others to consult."

"You heard him! Six months of searching and nothing." She sniffed again. "It's our fault. If we'd only accepted him for who he was..."

"Percy was never like the other children." Arthur reminded her gently. "He had different needs...I often thought that he took after your Father more then any of the other children."

"But if only..."

"No, dear. Don't take this on yourself. There is only one person truly to blame and we've taken decades of our lives to get rid of him. If Percy is truly going.... then we can only do our best to make sure his last days are comfortable and filled with love."

"I suppose you're right...but it's so hard."

"I know, love. I know."

They sat there until the sun came up and Ginny wandered downstairs looking for breakfast.

Working in the potions lab had softened his muscles considerably and Ron was suitably chagrined as his usual fifty morning sit ups left him wheezing and sweat drenched. A part of the peace process seemed to be letting ones' physique go to pieces. In a way, he was glad to see the last of his over defined muscles. He hadn't gotten them for pleasure and they brought back poor memories.

"Well then, Master Weasley." He mumbled to himself as he turned to do pushups. "Perhaps it's time to rethink the whole program."

Time to rethink his life was more like. With a snort of disgust at his own half-hearted attempts at reworking things, he headed into the shower, dressed and swiped a few pieces of toast from Draco's copious pile. There was work to be done and thoughts to not think.

Snape was already in the lab, working on basic supplies for the Infirmary, which would be necessary when the students returned. A stack of books, left marked and opened from the weeks before laid waiting for him on the desk that had appeared several days ago for his use. Naturally, Snape would never take credit for the sudden appearance of the object, but that was his way.

"Good morning." He said pleasantly. Snape returned with curt nod as he rapidly skived pollywags.

They worked in silence for the better part of an hour, Snape occasionally grunting or snorting in agitation. Ron had listened to several knowledgable authors read their texts to him while he took notes via a commanded Dicto-quill. Finally, whatever Snape was working on had come to a finishing point and he rounded on Ron, his calm pool of emotions rippling into half-hearted fury and confusion.

"What did Percival say to you last night? I heard him yelling through the door."

"It's not mine to say..."

"If I am to accept that that uptight little toad is going to take my son from me, I have a right to know what he's doing yelling in my apartments." The stare brooked no nonsense and Ron found himself telling all.

"Apparently in the middle of the last battle, Voldemort figured out that Percy was a spy and he laid a hex on him. Because he didn't have the Dark Mark, it hasn't killed him immediately, but there's no cure and he's probably going to die within a few months. The calm of his voice was a cultivated skill, but it kept wild emotions at bay.

There was a sudden rattle from the floo in the living room and before Snape could respond beyond a wave of shock, Percy was there, covered in dust and feeling highly aggravated.

"That is the last time I take your advice!" He leaned heavily against the wall. "I told Mom and Dad last night and they fussed over me all morning. I went to St. Mungo's to escape, but they'd told the ward matron that I've got a fatal disease and now they won't let me do my shift."

"It is the least you deserve." Snape growled. From the flare of surprise, it was obvious Percy hadn't noticed that man standing there. "For being so senseless."

"Whatever do you mean..."

"Take off your shirt."

"What?!"

"You heard me. If you want to have my son then you will take off your shirt and let me see the damage."

"Ron!"

"I didn't tell him!" He raised his hands in protest. "Well, about the death thing yes, but not about Draco. That he eavesdropped on all of his own."

"I do not eavesdrop. I accidentally overhear." Snape growled. "Now, off with it."

Percy was even less resistant to a Snape command then Ron. The neatly pressed button down was quickly draped over a chair. Over his heart was the hex sign, it resembled the Dark Mark, but had the additions of being an infected reddish color and consisting of two snakes knotting themselves together within the skull.

"No one's been able to undo it." He explained. "Not curse breakers, not Charms masters, not even ancient Chinese pain artisans recognized it."

"They wouldn't." Was the gruff reply. "It's very rare and native to England."

"How do you know?"

"Because I helped create it almost a quarter of a centaury ago." Stained fingertips traced the reddened skin. "It was supposed to be a great work, an improvement over the Dark Mark. Lucius and I were working on it, but when we tested it...the subject with the Mark died almost immediately. The other...I didn't know about him until far too late...I found him wasting away in the dungeon. By the time I'd figured out how to reverse it, he died in my arms."

Ron knew that if he could see, Snape's expression wouldn't have changed one iota, but the pain he could 'see' was so intense, he nearly choked out of sympathy.

"Reverse.... you know how to reverse it."

"Naturally. No wizard worth his salt would ever create something he couldn't destroy. What would be the point to a poison that had no antidote?"

"I...you just want to poison the person. Who needs an antidote?"

"Does no one listen to my lectures?" The older man sighed. "I might as well talk to the cauldrons."

"Without an antidote, you can not truly understand the workings of the poison. One might as well attempt a Charm without the words or plant a seed without knowing its origin." Ron intoned. "I believe that's exact."

"You were never that attentive in my class..."

"I was. You just never noticed. And I was paired with Neville a whole lot of the time." He grinned. "And every time you said Charms my ears perked up and that was a rare enough event."

"Hello! Can we get back to the point? You know how to reverse this. I would be deeply in your debt if you..."

"You owe me only one thing Weasley." The hiss was the most Slytherin noise Percy had ever heard. "Don't break his heart or I will break your soul."

"Yes, sir."

"Nix et Ominus Par."

The mark wavered in and out, rippled and burned. A gust of foul green air puffed out from Percy's nostrils and mouth.

"That was...anti-climatic." He took in a deep breath of clean air. "That feels amazing. Thank you."

"Just keep up your end of the bargain. He's in the living room." He all but shoved the man through the door. "And after today, your visits are being supervised until I see some proof that things are going the way they should."

Once his brother had closed the door behind him, Ron let out a relieved laugh.

"You're just full of surprises, sir."

"If you'd done as many terrible things as I have, then you would be full of useful twists and bends as well."

"I think you're far too hard on yourself."

"I don't believe that is any of your business." Snape returned swiftly. "The things I have done are unforgivable, but I long ago learned how to live without guilt of them."

"I believe that you believe that." Ron said softly. "Thank you for giving Percy a chance."

"It is as you said. If I had not, it wouldn't have done any of us any good. He's...not unacceptable. Don't you have something to do?"

"Yes, sir." Ron turned back to his books, letting the smile curl on his lips.

Percy stumbled into the living room. The lithe blond was curled up on the couch and the red head felt something surge through him at the mere sight of the younger man. Draco was curled up around a soft purple pillow, his pale skin stained with tears and knuckles white from his strong grip.

Without thought, Percy moved to Draco's side, kneeling next to the couch.

"Drake?"

"I.... heard....are you really going to die?" The younger man snuffled.

"No! No. Your father cured me."

"Oh!" The sobs redoubled and Percy curved upwards to draw the other man off the couch and into his arms.

"My heart, my sweetness, shhh, shhh...." He rocked him, rubbing his fingers in soothing circles over the back. By the time he was at the end of his tears, Draco was able to look the elder man in the eyes.

"I don't want to be without you." The innocence that Percy had always worked so hard to concentrate on was overwhelmed by the open lusting look that Draco shot him in that moment. The open, needy hunger was not that of a child.

"You won't." Hesitantly, he allowed himself to cup one sharp cheek in his hand. The skin was softer then he had imagined. Before he could move farther, pale lips were on his and long arms were around his shoulders.

The kiss was soft and pleading. He opened himself to it, moving to settle the smaller man on his lap. There was a sharp sweet taste to Draco that had its origins in a syrup-laden breakfast. When they broke apart, foreheads pressed together.

"I'm not a child." Draco said softly. "I know what I want."

"Obviously." Percy chuckled. "And who am I to argue? Your father is going to lay down some ground rules..."

"Yes and they'll be fairer then you think. Ron's been keeping him in check."

"I think I have a lot to thank him for."

Draco got a far away look in his eyes and a wicked smile curled on the ends of his lips.

"I have a way we can both thank him, if the Headmaster is here we can start immediately...."

By the time Snape and Ron re-entered the room, they were innocently snuggling on the couch. Dark eyes narrowed briefly and Draco shivered in Percy's arms.

"It's all right." Snape soothed quickly. "This will merely take some getting used to."

"Thank you, Papa."

Impulsively, Draco untangled himself from Percy's embrace to wrap his arms around his father. Snape stiffened momentarily, before returning the embrace. The rough kiss he dropped in his son's hair was obviously hard for him. Draco pulled away to return to the couch.

"Well then, are you up for another chess lesson after lunch?" Ron asked, attempting to break the sudden sad chill that hung in the air.

"You will not beat me again." Snape warned.

"Then you'd best not play him again." Was Percy's quick retort. "He's impossible."

Ron chuckled and laughed harder when he sensed Snape's stubborn irritation rising.

"We shall see about that." Came the mild reply, but Ron braced himself for a brutal assault.

Snape blinked at the parchment in his hand. He had been expecting it naturally, but not nearly so soon.

"Sir?"

"The Headmaster would like to see you in his office. It seems he has a proposal for you."

"Does it say what?" Silver lining snapped abruptly shut as he turned to face the potions master. "Shit. Still at eleven seconds."

"Patience. And no, as always the Headmaster is irritatingly vague."

"Walk me up then?"

"I suppose." He glanced quickly around the room, evaluating the stages of various brews. Nothing that couldn't wait. "Very well."

The school that had been deadly quiet for eight months was beginning to stir with life. House elves raced every which way, popping in and out at random intervals, getting dormitories and classrooms in order. Teachers, their assistants and various supporting staff also trickled in, healed and hardy. There had been more then a few replacements, but it did make for a fresh beginning.

"Beeswax." Snape spoke tartly to the damaged guardian of the spiral staircase. They ascended slowly, Snape behind Ron in case the blinded man lost his footing.

The musty warm smell ignited Ron's memory. Days of talking strategy and sipping strong teas laced with Pepper-Up when no one was looking.

"Hello, Headmaster. "

"Mr. Weasley, a pleasure as always. Please, take a seat. There's a chair only slightly to your left. Oh, Severus! Why don't you stay? Have some tea."

A long-suffering sigh saw the potions master ensconced in the other chair. There was no resisting Albus Dumbledore.

"May I ask what all this is about, Headmaster?"

"Of course, of course. Lemon drop?"

"No, thank you. We have a tremendous amount of work to do..."

"Yes, my dear boy, I understand." The old man harrumphed a little. "It seems that we're in something of a bind. The Charms teacher we hired to replace Professor Flitwick recently decided that she'd rather move to the Continent for research. I was hoping that you would take the position instead."

"That's ridiculous! I've no experience teaching! I didn't even go to Hogwarts when it was functioning school....."

"You are independently educated." Snape said softly, surprising both Ron and the Headmaster. "Didn't you tell me yourself that it was you who created Charged weaponry?"

"Yes, but..."

"And most of the other charmed objects involved in battle, amounting to nearly twenty recent copy rights in your name within the Ministry." Dumbledore added. "Congratulations!"

"But I never..." Ron shook with confusion and the beginnings of rage.

"It seems your friend Mr. Potter has been busily at work." Snape observed.

"I'll kill him." Ron fumed. "He knows I didn't want recognition for any of that! It was supposed to be listed as anonymous."

"Well, now. That's a bit harsh." Dumbledore broke in. "I'm sure the Minister was only trying to give you the credit you so justly deserved."

"Right. It has absolutely nothing to do with my position of the war directly under him. I love Harry like another brother, but I also know what a ratfink he can be. All this recognition will reflect very nicely onto him." The red head shivered with barely suppressed rage.

"Yes, well.... I'm sure that is something the two of you can take up at some other time. The school is a relatively quiet place in peace time." Was the gentle reminder.

"I won't be able to see properly for another three months at least."

"You may choose your own assistant to aide you until such a time when you can function alone. I have a list of recommendations."

A calloused hand shuffled through lengthy red locks.

"Fine. Where do I sign?"

They haggled a little over beginning salary and such, but quickly reached an agreement.

"Just one last thing...I'm afraid the teachers' quarters have suffered some sort of rot. Possibly a student prank gone wrong and then left unchecked. Would it inconvenience either of you if Professor Weasley continued to reside in the dungeons?"

Ron, shocked by the use of his new title, shook his head mutely.

"Seeing as we still haven't perfected the muscle stimulant, I had no plans of letting him off on his own."

"He is an adult, Severus. He's a right to live where he wants."

"He's right." Ron put in abruptly. "It'd be silly of me to change quarters. I'd have to relearn a whole new area. I have things well in hand in the dungeon."

"Wonderful!" The Headmaster clapped his hands, sending a flurry of papers across his desk. "I have a copy of the old approved syllabus somewhere.... ah! Here. I'll expect your lesson plans within a week. Good day."

As soon as they were safely away, Ron whirled on Snape.

"Can you floo me to the Ministry? I have a few choice words for the Minister."

Snape's eyes sparkled. Who said Slytherins couldn't appreciate a good bit of mischief?

"My pleasure."

They landed, fairly gracefully considering, into the lobby of the Minister's grand office. A neatly dressed, precise secretary coughed discreetly.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"I have a standing invitation, Ms..."

"Updike. I wasn't aware that the Minister had made such a promise to just anyone...."

"Just anyone?" This time it was Snape who growled at her. "Don't you know to whom you are speaking? This man was the Minister's Lt. General. He served for six years as a battle leader and single handily created the weapon that ultimately won the war."

The secretary looked suitably cowed in the presence of Snape's awesome ability to discipline, but quickly rallied as something occurred to her.

"Minister Potter is in a meeting!"

"Oh for...how far away is she?" Ron whispered to Snape.

"Three feet forward, slightly to the left."

"Stupefy."

Her eyes glazed over and she slumped forward at her desk.

"That was a little overdone."

"I'm too pissed for finesse."

The doors banged open with a satisfying crash, revealing Harry scribbling on a pile of papers and talking to a thin, nervous looking man.

"Ron! Professor! Hello...could you just wait in the lobby for a moment, I was just finishing up with Mr. Crill...

"Minister." Ron stood back appreciating Snape's velvet threatening tones. "I believe that your best friend and comrade in arms has something to speak to you about. I would suggest that you say goodbye to Mr. Crill."

"Perhaps I'd better go." The pale man shuffled through some papers and scuttled out the door, deliberately walking wide around the terrifying twosome.

"Well, there goes most of my hopes for making amends with the Brazilian...."

"Forgive me if I don't care. I had an interesting talk with Dumbledore this morning, Harry." He let only the tiniest curl of anger pollute his tone. "It seems that someone has been putting my name on copyrights."

"It's your work, Ron!"

"And I gave it to the wizarding world, no strings attached!" He heaved in a breath. "How could you do this to me! After I begged you not to..."

"You should get credit for everything you did! It's not fair to just let people assume.."

"I don't give a damn what people assume, Harry. Let them think I was a loafer, a good for nothing, take the credit for yourself, just leave me the hell out of it from now on!"

"But..."

"No. No buts. This is a betrayal of our friendship! What made you possibly think that this wouldn't be a bad idea?"

"Because...they think I did it, Ron. They think I won this war. The press, most of the wizarding world and even my parents are starting to believe it. But you and me both know that I had almost nothing to do with it. You won this war..."

"Don't you fucking dare put that on me. Do not give me their deaths, Harry. I've taken enough of them. Don't wipe your bloody hands off on me. I know what I did, I know the extent of my guilt. I created weapons designed for efficient death and I sat in on meetings and made suggestions that doubled the effect of an attack. I know what I am responsible for. It was you who killed Voldemort and it was you who led troops into bloody victory. You'll just have to learn to live with it the same as I did." He could feel his face full of blood, pulsing angry, unflattering red, but couldn't care less. Harry's own waves of remorse, frustration and anger only fed his fire.

"I didn't mean...."

"That's the problem with you Harry. You never mean to do anything, but you manage all the same." Ron spat.

"I think enough has been said." Snape drawled softly, resting a hand on Ron's shoulder. He felt instantly calmed as he always had when his father had warned him of his temper. "Shall we return? You have much to prepare for."

"Mmm....Harry, please leave me alone for now. I'll see you at Hermione's wedding next weekend." He grinned pleasantly. "I think by then I might be able to actually listen to anything you've managed to come up with."

"Good day, Minister." Snape smirked.

"Wait! What did you do to my secretary?!"

"Ms. Updike is having a nap. Good day, Harry."

They swept out and Ron threw a companionable arm around Snape's shoulder as they stepped into the generous fireplace. When they landed safely in the dungeon, Ron dissolved into heaving giggles. Snape smiled indulgently and broke out into low rusty chuckles as Draco burst into the room, a curious look on his face and a line of soot across his cheek.

"How now bratling, what have you done to yourself?"

"Found the recipe you were tinkering with for the new stimulant." He snuffled out more dust from his nose. "There were some interesting components that related to the cure for nerve degeneration I was working on."

Draco on potions was not Draco on any other subject. Or maybe it was Percy's acceptance of him, but Ron had never heard Draco speak with such clarity.

"And what exploded?"

"Nothing! It gave off a greasy smoke. Kind of oily. Was going to get rid of it when you two came in." He itched his nose, leaving another streak. "Might be able to get a working potion in a few hours."

"Working as in a functioning stimulant?"

The messy blond nodded.

"You're a wonder Draco Snape." Ron stumbled to the blonde's side and took him in a tight hug. The blond quickly squirmed free.

"Not sure it will work yet. Don't get too excited."

"All right, all right. I'm going to get something to eat and work on my lesson plans like a good teacher drone." He said to no one in particular and walked out to do just that.

Snape watched him leave, a small sly smile still lingering on the edges of his lips.

"Draco...."

"Got to go finish..."

"Draco. Did you fire talk Dumbledore last night?"

"No...." The glare quickly undid him. "Percy did."

"You corrupted a Weasley. Quite the feat. I must admit, I'm unclear on your objectives."

Draco stared at him, mouth slightly open, before he shifted to a much craftier look.

"Then I won't tell you. You'll figure it out well enough on your own."

The potion was a stunningly uninteresting gray. Ron sat hard on his borrowed bed, readying himself for another failure. Another sink into depression and another flush of anxious doom. The closeness of the room grew until there was nothing left for it, but to swallow it down. There was a bitter after taste and for a long settling moment nothing happened at all.

The light came harshly, despite the purposeful dimming spells. It always did in those brief flashes he'd had the last few weeks. He just breathed in deeply as the ten-second mark passed and then the twenty. Objects came into focus, stonewalls and the soft hues of the bed covers all became alive and lovely in his eyes. Everything began to swarm into his mind and he ordered the lights up gently. Soon every blessed detail was painted in sharp relief. Momentous did not even begin to describe it.

As soon as he stopped shaking, he went to find Draco, marveling at how very different the rooms seemed. The furniture he'd only known as comfortable was thread-barren. The rooms he knew to be warm were made of moist stone and the fireplace that always crackled with such warmth was surprisingly small. He paused at the doorway of the lab.

And got his first real glimpse of Snape in three years. The man was bent over a glass cauldron, stirring slowly with his left hand while taking cramped precise notes with his right. Long, greasy strings of black hair hung over pale and lined skin, a beakish nose protruding beneath. He moved with intensity that Ron had long felt, but never witnessed in him. He was nothing beautiful, nothing fine, but Ron felt captured nonetheless. For that instant, he was completely caught and could have stared forever. Long fingers moved with a grace no one could duplicate, the delicacy of touch known only by the blind and the brilliant artisan. Ron never wanted the moment to end. If he could stand there and indulge his newly healed eyes for hours then he would.

"Did it work?" Draco was behind him in that sudden fluid way of his, snapping Ron out of his private reality. Snape's head came up as well and for a strange timeless moment their eyes were locked. Something licked up between them, filling the air with delicious warmth. "Ron?"

"I'd say it went perfectly." Ron managed to break away and grin at the younger man. "You did wonderfully."

The blond shrugged, a smile tugging at the ends of his lips.

"Your eyes are a lighter brown then Percy's."

Ron knit his eyebrows and turned to a cauldron with standing water.

"Minus Reflect." The water became a perfect mirror. It was wonderful to see his face again from the crazed red of his uneven hair to the suggestion of a weak chin and familiar muddy eyes. Everything seemed about the same, some lines a little lighter, a certain tense tightness of oncoming battles had eased around the eyes, but it was the face he'd grown up with and it was nice to see it again. "Strange. I remember them darker."

"But your vision is the same?"

"Still a little blurry from the light, but otherwise as accurate as it ever was."

"Then it's probably nothing to worry about." Draco assured him. "Now, break everything down, step by step about the process. There's research to be done. "

"I'm at your service."

The rest of the day was spent being grilled by the blond on every aspect of the change, down to the taste left in his mouth to fineness of the color he could perceive sixteen seconds after consumption. The whole time his thoughts wandered and he answered automatically, his mind's eye on two steady black eyes and a flash of something deep and wanting.

The week went all too fast. Between making lesson plans, indulging himself in every missed sight and last minute trips to the Grangers' and fittings, there was no time to settle things between them. Ron watched desperately for Snape, but the man had made himself scarce. Whether or not it was on purpose was impossible to determine. With the hectic final days of putting the school back together, even Draco was pressed into service, cleaning Snape's classroom and making an insurmountable amount of potions used in the every day functioning of the massive education machine. Even Percy became a scarce commodity after he returned to St. Mungo's. He had been surprised to find that they not only wanted him back now that he was cured, but they offered to front the money for his education to become a medi-wizard. They were woefully low and many of those who were getting re-educated preferred to steer clear of occupations of blood.

By the time the morning of the wedding came round, Ron wanted nothing more then to sleep, corner Snape and have a long conversation with the spindly wily potions master. Instead, he had to gather himself together, dress in formal robes and Apperate to a lovely catering hall. With a series of shaken wait staff, he managed to locate the bride, who had dissolved into fits of tears.

"Oh, Ron..." Hermione threw her arms around him. "I'm so nervous."

"Now, now, love. No need for all this." Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Ginny making frantic gestures. She looked more a wreck then the bride, probably having suffered an hour or so of this already.

"I'm getting married! There's plenty of reason! I'm going to have a child and a husband and all sorts of trouble and what if I'm doing the wrong thing..."

"Major General! Pull yourself together."

She sniffed.

"Did you just pull rank on me?"

"Damn straight."

They both held serious faces for about three seconds more, before letting loose gales of laughter. Only six months ago and that snap of orders would have led to a serious dressing down, but today, with her in a lovely white gown and he in his fine new robes, it was only a ridiculous reflex.

"I feel worlds better now." She said through hiccupping giggles. "Ginny, be a love and wet me a handkerchief. I'll retouch my makeup and be ready to go."

"Of course, 'Mione." The young red head scuttled off, shooting daggers at her brother. "I hope you plan on apologizing to Harry, Ronald. He's been an absolute mess since you made that scene in his office."

"My business is my own. I won't have you scolding me like a child." Ron growled. "Go make yourself useful."

The glares burned between them until Ginny retreated.

"She's right you know. Silly and mother hen like, but right." Hermione had already conjured a moistened towel and was making inroads on her ruined mascara. "Harry didn't mean to upset you. He was only doing what he thought was right."

"I know. But, I also know that he did it for his own good, not with any thought of my request on the matter. I don't owe him an apology."

"But you do owe him the chance to say his own." When he nodded in agreement, she pressed on. "And you certainly owe one to his secretary. That poor girl was only doing her job."

"Fine." He said through gritted teeth. "Only because it's your wedding."

"Thank you."

As it happened, Harry was the first person he ran into on leaving the bride to her newly arrived mother.

"Ron! Your eyes are healed! That's phenomenal!"

"Hello, General."

Harry's expression automatically stiffened.

"Don't be like that."

"Then don't act like it. I'm not yours to command anymore, Harry."

"Ron..." The Minister pushed messy black and silver locks out of his eyes. "You know that I didn't copyright those things to hurt you. I may be too used to things going as I order, but you have to know that I wanted to do what was best."

"And I appreciate that. I really do. But you shouldn't have done it, Harry. I've already begun to fight interviews and fame grubbers and that's only through owl. When people figure out where I am...."

"How could they?"

"Didn't anyone tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"I'm to be the new Charms professor. Dumbledore asked me the same day I stormed your office."

"Oh, Ron, that's great! And don't worry about being inundated. I've already ordered a media silence area for all the schools. I don't think the kids should be exposed to that type of swarm." He sighed wearily. Ron's resistance crumbled under the power of that sigh, remembering all to well when it had been the only sign of a weakening spirit.

"Good. So..."

"I'm sorry."

"You're forgiven."

They shook hands before pulling together for a hard, brief hug. Now they could stand united by Hermione's side. If only things were so easy with Snape.

"Are you sure, Drake?" Percy asked

Long blond hair fell over the slender face, hiding his features entirely.

"I don't do well with crowds." He said again stiffly. "Please, Percy...."

"I'm not leaving you here alone..."

"There's no need to keep me company, I can function well enough by myself."

"I didn't say...Look, what if I promised not to leave you for a moment and if you feel the least bit uncomfortable we can come straight back."

"But..."

"Love, you've barely left the dungeon in twenty years. If you never do, you'll be here in twenty more."

"Percy...."

"Potions!"

"What?" Draco looked about bewildered. They were in the living room and despite numerous texts, there were no bubbling cauldrons in sight.

"I'm getting a bit of a salary now, right?" Draco nodded. " For every ten minutes you give the wedding a chance, I'll buy you an ingredient. Anything you want."

"You're bribing me."

"Is it working?"

"Not really, no." Draco sighed. "And you're not understanding me."

"Then explain!"

"Oh." Draco sat hard on the couch. "That's what this is about then."

Gently, Percy kneeled at the blonde's feet.

"No, no. I don't want to pry into ugly things. I just want to understand, is all. There are so many things I want to show you in the world, but it's no use if you're terrified out of your wits."

"I don't trust easily and I don't think I ever will." Draco grasped one calloused hand in his. "There are times when even here, I have terrible memories...attacks that I can't shake. How do I deal with that outside?"

"Oh for Merlin's sake, I'm not asking you to get a job and function. More a date or something...dinner or a walk.... and there are so many fine places in the world to see. Things I saw in my travels that I want to show you."

"Perhaps you'd be better off with someone who isn't so useless then." Was the bitter return.

"I don't want anyone else!" The older man buried his face against one thin thigh. "And if that means living down here for the rest of my life until death takes us then so be it."

"Do you mean that?"

"Yes."

"All right then. Let's go."

"What?!"

"To the wedding. An ingredient for every ten minutes, you said. That's going to be quite the bill..."

Percy blinked.

"What just happened here?"

"I believe, Mr. Weasley, that you've just come against a very formidable, if housebound, Slytherin." The gravel of Snape's voice brought their attention to the door. "Draco, don't play with your food."

"Yes, sir."

"And Mr. Weasley, you'd be well advised to let Draco make his own decisions. He'll tell you anything you want to know when he's ready and I have always been confident that he will not live out his days in my dungeons." He growled at his son's suitor. "Now then, are we all ready?"

"Yes, sir." The two chastised boys intoned and followed the Professor to their portkey.

They arrived at the wedding in a jumble and Snape quickly lost track of the younger pair. Draco was naturally overwhelmed, but appeared buoyed by the particular Weasley presence. Resigned to watching the wedding from afar, he settled himself in an empty back row. Being a man of punctuality, he was pleased when the wedding party began their march promptly. Only a few other lone stragglers joined him in the back seats, so he was able to get quite a clear view of those coming by. There were a few nitwit girls clinging to simpering fools arms coming to stand at the front of the auditorium. A Muggle tradition, no doubt.

And then came the witnesses as per the wizarding tradition. He couldn't place Regulus' witnesses as they passed, a pair of unsmiling men, typical of the day in the aged before their time sort of way. Potter and the lone Weasley girl followed up and by their exchange of glances, he was sure that it was their wedding he'd be next attending at Albus' skillful prodding. Good for morale indeed.

And by all that was good...

Ron walked alone. They must have been out of bloated girls. Only a few months ago, he was a black clad demon, built of strength and sorrow. Now, he clothed himself in beautifully tailored green robes, red-gold hair brushed down to his shoulders. The robes had been made to open to over his chest, closing from breastbone to his equally fitted pants. They were trimmed in silver. Snape could not look away. A Gryffindor in Slytherin colors? Or was the other man trying to send a message? And if so, to whom? And why here and now?

"Lovely young man, isn't he?" A plump elderly woman whispered to him. "More the sort I always expected our Hermione to end up with. I believe they even dated for some time. Strange how love is, isn't it? Should be two fine young ones like them today. Instead that sad looking creature got her. "

Briefly, he tore his attention from Ron to cast his glance to where Regulus stood waiting for his bride. A weaker, copied image of Sirius without a doubt and there was a lingering stamp of ugly years past in his features, but he did look quite pleased with his nuptials.

"Things are not always what they seem." He informed the grandmotherly figure.

"No, not always. Still and all, why a young pretty girl would settle for such a careworn...."

"He's my cousin." He said suddenly, feeling perverse and quite pleased with curdled look of horror settling in a wave over her face. She attempted to backpedal, but Severus contented himself with returning his eyes to the wedding party, easily picking out the single redhead from the mass.

A white ball of taffeta under which Ms. Granger presumably lurked, made its way to the front. The ceremony proceeded quickly after that. Words were said, spells were weaved and the witnesses gave testimony. In the end, they were mated and set before the crowd as Mr. and Mrs. Black. As the couple walked down the aisle together, light brown eyes caught his own and the red head smirked and rolled his eyes. Before he could stop himself, the corner of his mouth quirked up in an answering derisive smile.

"Ah, so that's how it is then." The old woman was patting him on the arm. "You're a lucky man."

He stared at her as she turned to fight her way from the crowd. There were many things he'd been called in his life, most of them unflattering, but no one had ever thought him lucky.

"Papa?"

"There you are." His son looked paler then usual, his skin covered in a fine sweat, but there was a small triumphant smile on his face. "Are you quite all right?"

"Of course." Was the stubborn reply.

"He held up quite well." Percy chimed in, gently prying his hand free from Draco's death grip. "But I think it's best we head back to the dungeons."

"I'm ready to leave as well."

"Now, now, Severus." The Headmaster appeared in series of silent curses on the part of the potions master. "You wouldn't want to disappoint the rest of the faculty. We were so looking forward to being all together at a pleasant gathering for once."

"I'd really rather..."

"And besides, you wouldn't want to show disrespect for your cousin, would you?" The twinkle only flamed Snape's desire to tear that kindly eye from the socket.

"I shall be there."

"Excellent. Now, I really must go congratulate the children. They do grow so quickly."

Percy nudged Draco.

"Does that vein in his forehead always pulse like that when he's angry?"

"Only when it's with Dumbledore. It's a father/son pseudo relationship thing." The blond replied coolly. "It gives Papa someone to rebel against without doing any real damage."

"I do not...Oh, just go home and leave me to my misery." He stalked off to the sound of the two boys giggling together. Two months ago and Draco would long ago have suffered a panic attack. Despite himself, he was glad of Percy Weasley. Damn Ron for being right.

The party was as horrible as Snape had foreseen. Watching his colleagues get smashed and make collective arses out of themselves was bad enough, but it had the added horror of allowing Trelawney to lose all sense and reason. At some point in the evening she'd apparently 'seen' that Snape was the most eligible bachelor at the party. Hooch thought this incredibly entertaining and, since she was holding a bit of vendetta against the potions master for some petty incident, she egged on her loopy peer. If only McGonagall wasn't occupied on the dance floor or if Sinastra hadn't already left with a husky middle age specimen, they would have come to the rescue. If only for the favors Snape would owe them for years to come.

"And then I told him, 'I see your end is near, fast like lightening'. Well, he didn't believe me at all and just as he was walking out of the pub, bam! Struck by lightening." A red painted, sharpened tool of death poked him in the chest. "And did that get me any more customers? Course not, had the whole bloody crowd turn on me. Chased out of the town with torches! Torches!"

"Remove your foul claw from my person immediately!"

"Oh, you!" She batted her eyelashes at him. "You always were such a kidder."

"I assure you that I am not joking." Somewhere outside of Snape's field of vision, the band got back from their break and began to play a waltz.

"I love this song!" She cooed. "Let's dance!"

"I will not, you preposterous strumpet!" As he protested, she wobbled to her feet and with a strength he would not have believed possible, yanked him out of his chair.

"Excuse me, Severus." And there was his savior! Stunning in green and silver, one eyebrow quirked in amusement, the caress of his first name still lingering on grinning lips. "But I rather wanted to talk to you."

"Get lost, Weasley." Trelawney said tartly. "We're going to dance."

"No, I don't believe you are." One hand swept through long red locks, revealing a silver charm tucked at the nape of his neck. He brandished it like a sword and poked her in a fleshy arm. "Sobrias."

Instantly, Trelawney blinked back to whatever passed for her usual reality. Her cheeks flushed bright red and she redid up a few buttons. Her mouth opened to say something, anything, but in the end she picked up her things and ran from the room. Hooch was beside herself with laughter and the rest of the faculty was beginning to take more interest then Severus would have liked.

"Shall we go somewhere else to talk?"

"Do you mind if we walk outside for a bit?" Severus nodded acceptance and together they left behind the rapidly building scenes of chaos that usually came when magic was mixed with far too much liquor. " You need not stay with me, you know. I was merely offering you an out."

"No, if I go outside, I can Apperate before Dumbledore catches me."

"Hermione for me. She's insisting that I not leave until most of the guests are gone. I think she's afraid to be left alone with Regulus." He chuckled. " Now that they're husband and wife, he can't stop gazing at her with worshipful puppy eyes."

"Runs in the family, I suppose."

"Do you ever...no, sorry. I shouldn't pry." They exited into a lovely courtyard, the night slightly chilled.

"You saved me from a fate worse then death, a simple question will not put you out of my good graces."

"I was just... I don't know. Seeing how happy they were, having my sight back, and the job... I feel like I have a future. I want to believe that I do, any way. Do you think it's possible? After all of it." He kicked at the grass, sending a flurry of dewdrops into the night.

"You'll find your place. There's no way you could not. And there will always be a few sleepless nights and ugly flashbacks, but soon enough you'll be a settled, fondly remembered hero with all the family you could want."

"I have quite enough family." His teeth gleamed briefly in the night. "Severus..."

"What?"

"Nothing. I was just thinking that I like your name. My parents have a propensity towards dry, formal names."

"My parents enjoyed alliteration. My sisters are Sylvania and Svetlana."

"Where are they now? Your parents and your sisters..."

"'Lana lives in Spain with her husband, Sylvania was committed over two decades ago for trying to kill our father. As for my parents..." He shrugged. " at last notice, they were both still alive and 'Lana believes they're living in Russia."

"Oh." The younger man looked chagrined. "I don't know what I'd do without my folks, despite all their oddities."

"Did they know about Blaise?" The question was so sudden, it seemed to take even Severus by surprise.

"Yes. There was never time to really talk about it, but I always got the feeling they were disappointed. Weasleys are breeding stock." He intoned the last in Arthur's serious, exuberant tones. "They're already making noises about me finding a nice girl to settle down with."

"And will you?"

"Certainly not!" He rubbed at his eyes like a child. "Even if I was interested in the gender, what would I have to offer? A scarred wreck of a body and a mind so twisted, Mad-Eye looks sane in comparison?"

"At least you've got your youth and a steady job. That's enough for most."

"What about you then? Has there been any one since..."

"Remus? No. There...it didn't seem right. If you had ever met him, you would understand. There are very few people like Remus in the world and none of them besides him would condescend to be with the likes of me. To this day, I'm not quite clear as to why he chose me."

"Why wouldn't he?" Ron spun so they were facing each other and Severus took in a tight breath.

"I was something of the school pariah and it wasn't any better after we graduated." He snorted. "His best friend was my worst enemy and yet, he picked me."

"I can see why. You know, when you're all cleaned up and half-way pleasant, you're a very attractive man." Ron laid a hand on his arm, slowly, softly. "Don't think I haven't noticed. You try hard enough to hide it."

"I've...noticed you as well."

"Have you then? That works out nicely then."

Before another word could be said, Ron leaned up the inch that separated them and brushed a kiss over thin lips, more purposeful than his aimless first. Awkwardly, Severus placed a hand on one rounded shoulder, leaning into soft, brief touch.

"RON!"

They jumped apart. Hermione appeared in the courtyard, apparently having seen nothing as she went to drag him inside with only a perfunctory nod for Severus. Ron mouthed a 'later' to the older man, before allowing the bride to harangue him for going missing. Severus stood alone in the moonlight for a long time, only thinking to Apperate home when the chill shook his teeth together, killing all the heat that had flushed his cheeks for the first time in over a decade.

Nothing came of the night for yet another week and Ron didn't even have time to regret it. The arrival of the children sent the whole school into an absolute frenzy. With classes to teach, crying first and second years to constantly console and a total reworking of lesson plans as he realized he had been far to ambitious, there was barely time to eat, let alone make inroads into what promised to be a fairly complex relationship. He dropped exhausted into bed each evening and rose, defeated, to the clock every morning. The only thing that kept him going was the caught moments. A glance over breakfast, a brushing past in the hall was all fodder for his weakening internal engines.

By the time the weekend came around, he no longer had any reservations about his plans. If it didn't happen this weekend, Dumbledore would have to find a new Charms professor as his current one would have expired from anticipation. He recalled dimly weeks of waiting for battles in wet, densely crowded camps and spelling food to stretch just long enough and still being able to joke with Harry. Apparently he had no such patience when it came to courtship, which really was a different sort of battle altogether.

"Percy, a word." The fire sparkled merrily, catching a thin nose with dipping glasses staring intently at a casebook.

"I'll be there with Draco in a matter of hours, can't it wait?"

"No. I need you to take him out tonight. Anywhere. For as long as you can."

"What? Why?" Percy's eyes widened.

"I've got plans for his Papa."

"Oh...that was remarkably sleazy, Ron."

"You don't sound surprised."

"I like to think of it as inevitability."

"...You know what? I don't care. Can you get Draco out of the dungeon?"

"I was planning on taking him out to dinner. You know, somewhere secluded and romantic..."

"Perfect. You get a nice date without the irate father breathing down your neck and I get...well... the irate father breathing down my neck."

"Strange. All these years, I've wanted to be a part of the Weasley brother camaraderie. Now, it turns it out it's all about sex."

"You're surprised? Mum and Dad had seven kids for a reason you know."

"Oh, ew. I'm going now. Good day, Ronald."

The conversation kept him going through fifth year Hufflepuffs and a dinner ten seats down from the cool potions master. As he expected, Severus retired from the table early with the other heads of house for their end of the week conference. They preferred to get it over with on Friday evening, so to leave the weekend clear. With this first week they would be jabbering for two hours at least.

The dungeon had never seemed so welcoming. Draco was happily grooming himself, brushing out his long white gold hair and scrubbing potion residue off his fingers. For a moment, Ron took in the sight of him and felt a surge of envy. From his aristocratic features to his immaculate dress, Draco would always look like a prince from a syrupy girl's fantasy. He could see what Percy saw in him, besides looks even. The innocence in his eyes, the scarless flesh, were all appealing to a man of war. Ron couldn't imagine being with someone who couldn't understand the horrors he had witnessed and taken part of, but to each his own.

"Primping for your boyfriend?" He teased. Confusion passed briefly over the finely featured face.

"Drake, are you ready?" Percy emerged from the bathroom, not looking bad himself. "Ron, we'll be out of your way momentarily."

"I can't believe it took you two six months." Draco complained, brushing an imaginary bit of dirt from Percy's shoulder. "I lost a very expensive bet with the Headmaster."

"Well that'll teach you to bet against the man once described as 'the closest thing to all-knowing a wizard can hope for.'" Chided Percy. "Come on then, we've reservations."

"I hate you both." Ron informed them without vehemence. "Go have a nice time and come back pleasantly late."

They flooed out to his wave. The moment they were out of sight, he flitted about the rooms setting the scene. Having gleaned most of his sexual experience in the trenches, there were a few things he was foggy about when it came to a more intimate, indoor, setting. Thank Blaise for having taken time to improve his nebulous skills as best he could in the time allotted them. As he bustled about, more for something to do then for any real plan, he said a quick prayer to his former lover, should the foxy ghost be lingering nearby.

If this night was a failure, he was going to have to move out in shame.

At last, there was nothing more to do, but wait and listen to his heart beat irregularly.

No few parties turned their gaze to the handsome couple in the corner. They were a thing to admire: one copper head bent close to white-golden, whispers passing between them like precious coins. What they could not see were the fine beads of sweat on the blonde's forehead or that the casual pale hand on the red head's arm was clenching enough to leave reddened half moons on freckled flesh.

"Are you all right, luv?" Percy put his own soothing hand over the clenching pale one.

"No." He bared his teeth in the mockery of a smile. "But I don't want to leave, so don't even suggest it."

"Of course not. " He turned and touched a section of the wall. "Privatus."

The whole of the room was blocked off from the sight of glancing diners. Draco's grip loosened considerably and a light sigh escaped from between pale and bitten lips.

"I hate this."

"I know."

"There's no one out there who's going to hurt me. I know that." He ground through his teeth. "So why do I want nothing more then to go home and bother Papa and Ron?"

"It's not your fault."

"Did I say it was?" He threw back. "No. It's all thanks to...to..."

"You don't have to..."

"To Lucius and Tom!" He spat on the floor, forcing Percy to wonder where exactly he'd picked that up. It wasn't farfetched to imagine Severus doing so in one of his frequent snits. "To my own father. My Father, Percy. I haven't...Until you, I didn't really have the words, but you've forced me to talk. Frankly, I don't know whether to bless or curse you for it."

"Why don't you just talk to me about it? Say what you have to."

"I...I don't know." The anger seemed to deflate all at once. "I loved him, you know. My father. I remember him as this kind of golden blur. I wanted him to love me. I even remember the first time I met Tom. They called him Voldemort, but he was just this wrinkly man with gray hair and reddening eyes. He told me to call him Tom and gave me a toffee. When I was finished, he sat me on a table and stared at me for the longest time. I don't remember being afraid."

"How could you have known?"

"My mother. She cried when we left. I never saw her again. Papa told me when I was nine that they'd found her body, but it never really meant anything to me. From then on, I lived with Tom and it was.... I don't remember most of it." He shook his head. "They would test spells on me. Variations on a half dozen pain spells. They fed me poisons, then the antidotes. Nothing of Papa's creation, I could tell by the shoddy work."

"He does have a certain flare for the work." Percy agreed. No reason to argue. He interlaced his fingers with Draco's nervously tapping ones. "You need not..."

"No, I think I do." His voice shook. " There aren't...I don't have the words for what else went on in those years. If they exist, I don't think I want them. He used me as he could, he got his pleasure from torturing me. Had Papa not rescued me I would have died there or worse, become even more a vegetable then I was."

"You're a wonder for surviving that long. A child and you lasted for years."

"Don't. It's not a skill, it was nothing amazing."

"If I could kill them, I would, but Harry and Ron got there first."

"It doesn't matter, really. Dead or not, they can't touch me anymore. I may be afraid, but it won't be forever. I've got you now, after all, and that's something."

The grin that twisted across maimed lips and the blush that spread across sharp cheeks were worth the admission.

"Yes, well. Did you decide what you wanted yet?"

The meeting had run far too late for Severus' tastes and he stormed irritably through the darkened school. Exhaustion was already beginning to set in and he began to remember with dread how much he'd hated teaching. Of course, he'd been teaching these past years, but it was a far more furtive manner with the sure knowledge that the things taught had a hard and definite use. Now, he was back to trying to stuff empty heads filled with facts and rules that they would most likely remember for exams and no farther. What they did retain would only serve as clutter.

At the very least, he could return to the bowels of the earth and go to sleep. Surely Percy and Draco would be finished with their evening with Ron standing in as chaperone. Or perhaps, they would all still be awake, but comfortingly quiet, moving in familiar acceptable routines. He wanted nothing more then to spend the remainder of the evening warmed by a fire and the looks he and Ron had been sharing these days. There would come a time when they would consummate those looks, but that seemed a long way off, a future he didn't want to consider. Then Ron would most likely balk. What was he after all, but an old and tired schoolteacher with delusions of grandeur and grudges four decades old?

The dark that greeted him in his quarters didn't deter him. Obviously everyone had gone to bed and that was for the better. He could go to sleep and forget the interminable annoyance that was his existence on this earth. He moved quietly through the living room and creaked open the door to his bedroom slowly, not wishing to disturb Draco. The boy still couldn't tolerate doors opened with force. But instead of the darkness he'd expected, he was met with a soft, flicker candlelight.

The black-sheeted bed, which had been the center of so much drama in his life, did not fail to produce. Seated on the end, one leg dangling to the floor, the other bent to provide support for an elbow. Tiny red hairs were picked out in the candlelight, so that all of the cast naked flesh shone like glitter. Facial piercings caught the light as well, throwing pale skin into flattering relief. Scars ran riot over pale flesh, twisting ropes of retreated pain. Splashes of tattooed color shared the space, spreading out in leisurely sprawl. Ron turned slowly to face the door, allowing the Silver Sight to slide away once he'd picked up no anger or disgust.

"I figured that we'd just skip the awkward conversation since we keep getting interrupted anyway."

Severus stared, frozen. Ron stood smoothly, his generous Weasley endowment fully revealed.

"Where's Draco?" There. That was a complete thought at least.

"Out with Percy. They're having a nice dinner." The other man continued to approach slowly as if expecting a lash out at any second. Severus' eyes couldn't help but trail down the well-defined body. And his eyes caught,

"Salazar's Kiss!" The unmistakable figure eight snake rested right above a line of fiery pubic hair just as its twin slept above his black. And so it had decorated an elite group of Slytherin men and women back to the days of the founder themselves. It was one of the most prized secrets of Slytherin, so well kept that many in the house itself had no idea of its existence. The mark was a membership, a bonding of a group that commanded obedience. Most of its bearers had perished in the war, an astonishing number of them on Dumbledore's side.

"So surprised?" Ron raised an eyebrow. "Do you honestly think that a Zabini would have tolerated being with any one else?"

"He marked you?"

"With the regular system of approval. He'd gotten his from his brother and two others in the group without being officially sorted, so he had no trouble convincing them of overseeing the first qualification. And, well...I was the master tactician in the battle, suspicious as hell and all too aware of what it means to be cautious."

"But you led that battle onto Brighton! If that wasn't a Gryffindor thing to do..."

"That was after I was marked." He returned. "And it is not something I'm proud of for all that we won. I would have done anything to avoid that battle, but we were going to die either by starvation or by the sword. No one was more surprised then I that we were alive in the end."

"A secret Slytherin in a family of Gryffindors."

"The snake in the lion's den." Ron agreed. He turned his arm, revealing the emergent sword and the band of words Severus had glimpsed earlier. Now, he could see it more clearly.

"Luck is for the Ill-Prepared. That's rather direct."

"It's a reminder. To go with the scars."

Almost against his will, Severus traced the largest of said scars, the one he had previously glimpsed through green and silver robes. It was nearly two finger lengths wide crossing from the right shoulder down just below his last rib on the left. Ron shivered to the touch.

"How many times did you come close to death?" Came the surprising question.

"Too many. Three times by injuries, once by being caught," and here he gestured to another of his tattoos that of the broken shackle around his left ankle, "and once when I allowed myself to sleep when I should have been keeping watch."

"Five times then. Five times you came face to face with your mortal end and each time you were spared." Severus shook his head and reached for his own collar and began to unbutton his formidable cloth armor. "My rights of odds, we shouldn't be standing here, either of us. But we are and that is good enough to be going on with."

Ron had obviously not expected such a reaction, but he didn't miss a beat. With a tenderness born of anxiety, he stopped the older man's hands and initiated a demanding kiss, letting his nimble fingers undo the rows of clasps. For his part, Severus left his hands of creamy freckle-dotted shoulders and carefully toeing off boots, a skill he had learned after years of hands coated in corrosive agents. By the time Ron had worked him free of his thick robes, they were both considerably more interested in the prospect ahead then any ugly history. Severus' body had been assaulted by age, but he was still winning the fight. He'd never been particularly interested in the evolution of the skin he inhabited and thus had become a thin, unmuscled specimen with a grace that prevented gawkiness and little give to the parchment that stretched around prominent bone. Ron thought he looked better undressed than Blaise. The other boy had been gorgeous clothed, having an inexplicable ability to fill out any piece of cut cloth to perfection, but out of it he'd been fairly plain and unevenly proportioned. Severus' cock was lovely as well though a touch crocked to the right as it woke from its nest of black curls.

"Percy and Draco planned all of this, you know?" Ron said softly as he inhaled the first musky wave of sex.

"Yes. But it is our will that sees it through." The older man pushed the redhead onto his back on the bed. Automatically, Ron spread his legs a little wider to accommodate Severus' wiry frame. Severus lifted one thin eyebrow.

"Oh, come on. What? I don't fit the stereotype?"

"I just never thought you..."

"Is that going to be a problem?"

"No! Not in the slightest."

Ron grinned as Severus dipped down again to kiss his neck, shoulder and the thick scar that wound its way down his left bicep. He couldn't blame the man for his surprise, after all he'd been rather taken aback when he discovered how much he enjoyed bottoming. There was no thought in his mind of it being submissive or passive, it was the absolute pure enjoyment of the act.

Severus allowed his hands free reign and they caressed youthful hard flesh until he found the soft junction between thigh and crotch. Ron arched into the touch encouragingly. Long fingers wrapped around rapidly interested flesh and he completed the task with the fingers Ron had first noticed that day as he scrawled notes and stirred his beloved potions. The silver ring proved an excellent place to tease. Ron's breaths came out short and uneven.

"Stop." He pleaded. Severus heeded the warning. The red head squirmed from beneath him and he watched the retreat with interest. Firm buttocks had apparently not escaped the ravages of scarring, a white thin line curved down from the spine and traced a path across one smooth cheek. Ron returned, breathing slightly more regularly with a bottle of orange oil. Severus took the proffered bottle and sniffed the contents.

"This has to be specially brewed. It's a master recipe."

"Draco left it on the bed. With a note. It read 'So passes the winter of our discontent'."

"Clever, irritating boy." He spilled some of the oil out onto stained fingertips. It was a good consistency and caused a pleasant warm tingling on the fingers. If he could ever look at his son again without blushing then he'd compliment him. Ron pushed his hand to side, kissing him again to bring his attention back where it belonged. It wasn't hard to re-entangle himself with the beautiful man before him.

Before Severus could ask the obvious question, Ron lifted his legs and wrapped them tightly around his waist. There was little doubt that, despite six months of minor disintegration, Ron was still flexible enough to take any number of demanding positions. Still, Severus snatched a pillow and tucked it under the other man's hips. Thus prepared, he slid over the other man and assaulted reddened lips.

Slowly and not without some anxiety, he found the tightly puckered hole and allowed it to grasp at his invading digit. Slick with Draco's expertly created lubricant and aided by neither of them even close to resembling a virgin, Severus was soon able to slide two long talented fingers and find the magic spot. Ron turned out to be highly responsive, arching off the bed, a cry torn from his throat. A third arrived moments later and Ron appeared feverish,

"Now." He commanded and Severus made no complaint. Orange didn't begin to mask the heavy scents of their bodies as he liberally coated himself with oil.

Carefully, he braced his arms on either side of Ron's shoulders, kissing him again and marveling at having a lover about his height. Remus had been wonderful in bed as rough or sweet as the mood dictated, but sometimes the fact that he was nearly a foot shorter was inconvenient. Now, with a few fumbling adjustments, he slid into the hot grasping channel offered so openly to him. They were both breathing erratically now, they're long hair mingling, catching in mouths, eyes and sweaty faces. Beside himself with pleasure and all to aware how long it had been,

"Touch yourself."

Ron obeyed instantly, wrapping strong fingers around his own arousal and trying to find the same pace as the heartbeat Severus had set. Writhing together, the world that seemed vast and passively cruel at the best of times disappeared. The world was recreated in an island of sheets, sweat and a single goal. Ron teetered and fell into the abyss first, groaning so deeply it echoed of something primeval. When the last of the convulsions wrung through him, he was content to lie still as Severus found his release. He spoke softly to him, nonsense words and let his hands slid through sweat-slicked hair, enjoying the last lazy swirls of heat pulsing through him. Finally, Severus found his relief, thrusting home one last time. For a long moment, he was perfectly still, every muscle tensed followed by a complete relaxation. He fell gently on top of his lover, tucking his face into the side of Ron's neck. Thick arms embraced him, shifted his weight until they lay side by side, breath intermingled.

"I think I could love you, Severus Snape." Ron told him with sleep thick in his voice. "I really could."

Severus said nothing, letting everything fix itself back in place before summoning his wand and cleaning them off with a few words. They slept without making it under the heavy duvet, letting the chill of the dungeon wipe away the last of their heated ardor. Tucked together, their Salazar's Kisses met. The two half living marks acknowledged each other with low sweet hisses. The snake in the lion's den and the lion in snake's skin mated at last.

Percy and Draco tiptoed into the darkened rooms. They paused outside the master bedroom.

"I can't look, he's my father." Draco hissed.

"And Ron's my brother..."

"You've seen him naked before, surely."

"Not since we were children."

They stood stalemated.

"What if we make the door invisible, only for a few seconds. Then we'll both have to look."

"Well..."

"Inverial." The image of Snape and Ron tangled together on the bed, sleeping flashed before them and Draco made an odd choking sound.

"Great. Now I have that burned into my corneas for the rest of my life." Percy turned to the wide-eyed blond. "Satisfied our work is well done?"

"I think I might throw up."

"Come on. Looks like you'll be bunking in your own room tonight."

The tension, already vibrating, becomes viscous.

"I don't think I can." It didn't even occur to Percy to argue.

"What if...I could stay." He offered as if it wasn't one of his clearest fantasies to spend the night with Draco sleeping next to him.

"You could." There was a brief silence. "Papa would be pissed."

"Considering how your Papa spent the night, I don't think he'd be able to comment."

"Good point."

"I promise not to snore."

They headed in to the other bedroom, lighting a lumos as they entered. Draco, trembling and silent, stripped down to his shorts which Percy took as his comfort level and followed suit. The bed seemed far more frightening then any restaurant. Percy closed the distance between them, picking up one shaking hand in his.

"I would never do anything you didn't want me to. Even if it means we have to go wake up the naked people."

"I know." Draco cast his eyes back at the bed. "You first."

The covers smelled vaguely like cederwood, something Percy had always associated with Ron. That was enough to keep his incipient erection at bay. Creeping in slowly as if to a boiling hot bath, Draco inched his way closer. Once he was fully settled into the curve of Percy's body, the older man gently placed an arm on him, when there were no protests he left it there and brushed a kiss on his forehead.

"Percy?"

"Mmm."

"Are we boyfriends?"

"What do you mean?"

Eyes open and mere inches away, it wasn't only the physical proximity that felt intimate.

"That's what Ron called you today. My boyfriend."

"I suppose we are." He replied lazily, brushing blond strands out of clear eyes.

"Good."

And with that, he closed his eyes and two minutes later was quite obviously asleep. The display of trust was so profound that Percy didn't fall asleep until much later, his heart still knocking loosely around his chest.

A gentle rolling cadence of numbers woke him. It was a pleasant change from the abrupt alarm, which left him out of sorts for the rest of the day. Muzzy, he tried to track the sound, not at all surprised that the bed was empty. Draco always woke before him. Finally, he let his eyes crack open to the relative dimness of the dungeon at dawn. The lights were trained to mirror the 24-hour cycle, which meant he'd woken well before usual. Turning on his side, he found the answer to every question.

Returned to a state of semi-decency by a pair of black shorts, Ron was counting off his push-ups. Sweat dripped from his forehead, but otherwise there was no evidence of his exertion. Long defined muscled, rippled responsively to the suggestive motions. Severus watched for a long time, enjoying the near blank state of mind while appreciating the fine physical specimen beside him.

"46,47,48,49,50..." He pulled in a long breath and in one smooth motion flipped over and began sit-ups. "1..2..3..I know you're awake..4..5.."

"Simply enjoying the view."

"7...8...you should have seen me at my peak...9...10.."

"The tattoo on your side of the clock..."

"14....fastest rescue...15...16...of hostages...17...18...during the '99 crisis...19...20..."

"You're very accomplished."

"23..24...for a warrior...25...26...pretty mediocre...27...teacher."

"You'll be a favorite soon enough. They may even ask you to be Head of Gryffindor."

"Don't make me laugh, you'll throw me off count."

"30." He offered helpfully. "How long have you been awake?"

"32.....about a half hour...33...I know how much....34...you like to sleep in...35.."

"But not enough to leave my chambers when you started your primitive morning rituals."

"I like...37....38...watching you...39...sleep..."

"Draco has informed me that I snore."

"You do...41...42...but it's more of a wheeze...43...44...besides...45...I drooled...46...on your arm."

There was a fine white powder on one spot of his wrist, but it didn't bear to think about it too much.

"You do this every morning?"

"49...50...baring emergency...51..52..."

"So should I let you stay in my bed, I shall be forewarned of your unfortunate morning habits." Ron stopped, staring up at him. "52." He reminded.

"I was up to 53 and do you mean you're really going to make it that easy?"

"What ever do you mean?" Well aware that coy looked absolutely ridiculous on him.

"Sweet Merlin." Ron chuckled. "You have a sense of humor...about yourself?"

"I know what I am, Mr. Weasley." He informed the laughing man. "And given a certain comfort level, I have no problem with jesting about it."

"I was thinking that this would be hard." Ron said suddenly, staring up into dark eyes from the floor. "It was hard with Blaise, with the war and sorting and well, everything. But this doesn't seem hard. Being with you...it's like second nature."

"Now I know you're really a Gryffindor."

"Why?"

"No Slytherin has ever been so sappy. I believe it's against house rules."

For a moment, Ron's eyes glittered and that's all the warning Severus got before 170 pounds of Weasley launched at him. Ron caught him up in a kiss, affectionately slapping him on the stomach at the same time.

"Did you mean it though?"

"Mean what?"

"The staying in your bed part?" They're eyes were locked and because they were both stubborn beyond belief, neither looked away.

"Yes, I think I did. Though we'll have to find a way to roust the other occupant." He pushed his tongue into his cheek thoughtfully.

"Uhh...about that." Ron bit his lower lip. "I didn't stay here the whole time I was up. I got up to get my wand and some shorts.... PercyandDracowereasleepinmybed."

"What?!"

Severus started to surge upward, but it was no small thing to dislodge Ron.

"They were properly clothed! Just sleeping. I didn't wake them up then, but I imagine with Draco's internal clock they're eating breakfast by now. Would you have preferred them to stay awake all night or worse, interupt us?"

"I would have preferred that man to keep his hands off of my son!"

"First off, 'that man' is my brother and you know perfectly well that of all people Proper Percy would be the last one to lay inappropriate hands on your son. Who, might add, is the same age as the man you just spent the night with."

"That doesn't mean..."

"He and Percy slept together. They've taken naps together before. This was just for an extended period of time. And yes, one day, if Draco is ever ready, they will have sex. Hopefully somewhere far away from here, but it will happen. You might want to accept that."

"Must I?" Severus had already fallen back, resigned.

"Yes. Think of it this way: If my Father walked in here right now and started berating you for deflowering his son..."

"I would tell him that I was far too late for that task."

Ron considered the situation and did the only rational thing to do. He smacked his smirking lover with a pillow. And then made a run for the door, certain that Severus' prudish dressing tendencies would keep him from following. It took him about four seconds to realize he'd greatly misjudged the other man's desire for vengeance. Somehow, Severus had managed to shimmy into some pair of pajama bottoms and with a speed Ron wouldn't have believed in him, launched an offensive. They streaked through the living room and past the tiny dinning room where Percy and Draco were on their second serving of scrambled eggs and beans.

"I guess Ron told Papa." Draco said mildly, pouring liberal amounts of salt on his plate.

"Guess so. Was Snape carrying a pillow?"

The bathroom door slammed shut, half a dozen locking and unlocking spells were yelled back and forth, but Ron wasn't the Charms teacher for nothing. Eventually, Severus appeared grumbling through the living room and slamming the door to his bedroom. Draco finished off his eggs and started to spear beans one by one. Four minutes later, Ron emerged wet, a towel tied around his waist and a false repentant expression plastered on his face as he tapped on the bedroom door. He was admitted entrance after a low whispered discussion.

"That was bizarre." Percy glanced through the newspaper.

"Pass the hash browns."

"And yet, you seem unfazed."

"If you had just seen your father run past you in pants, chasing your equally scantily clad mother with a pillow..."

"Point taken. Want me to brush your hair after breakfast?"

"Yes, please.'

Breakfast eaten, hair brushed, showers taken and a game of chess begun, the other duo finally emerged from the bedroom. They were immaculately dressed and not a hair of place. Neither Percy nor Draco believed it for a moment, but for the sake of everyone's sanity, said nothing.

"Good morning." Severus greeted pleasantly. "Has the paper come yet?"

"It's on your desk." Draco informed him. "Ron, how many moves to checkmate?"

"He's got you in four. No visible escape." The red head plunked down on the couch. "Accio syllabus."

A sheaf of papers, several books and a quill floated into the room and landed softly on the low coffee table. Draco watched, fascinated.

"But you only called for the syllabus..."

"I used a binding spell on the items. They work as a unit with a single name."

"That should be impossible." Severus returned with the Daily Prophet and settled in his chair. "The whole fabric of Charms is the language, how do you get away with renaming things?"

"I don't 'get away' with anything. Linking the items is actually more of a modified transfiguration."

"Have you ever considered publishing that?" Percy asked, still staring at the chessboard trying to figure out what four moves Ron had been referring to. "Under a penname of course. It could be very helpful."

"Think of the implications for potions..." Draco looked dreamily at the pile of books and parchment. "If I could bind ingredients before adding them, especially partially, it would change.."

"The whole balance of the brew." Severus agreed. "It would take a lot of delicate testing, but it might very create some interesting and useful things."

"Maybe. I never really thought about it as something worth writing down. I figured it was common sense."

"Did you know that grinding ash bark into a healing potion will preserve it for years?" Black eyes focused in middle space.

"No."

"Well, Draco does. Since he was thirteen and he never told me because he assumed that anyone who worked with potions would know that. I had to find it in his lab." He leaned farther forward in his chair. "Too many great magics are lost because people are ashamed or ignorant of their own genius. If there had been no war, do you think you would have made all the leaps you did? Only the direst situation forced you to create things that no one else has in the thousands of years magic folk have at this."

"All right. I'll get it published. When I have time." He glanced down at the pile. "Which at this rate will be never."

"I'd give you a concentration potion..." Severus began.

"Yes, I am one of the over users. None of them will ever be effective on me ever again." Ron cringed. "And I think I'm glad of that. I always felt paranoid on those things."

"Checkmate!" Percy cried, a little too triumphantly. Draco sighed and set up the board again.

"You're enjoying this too much."

"Lull him into a false sense of security then strike." Severus advised. Draco took it to heart, lost three games running then decimated Percy at the fourth. By then Ron had reworked the first few weeks for all his classes, putting in provisions for the slowest of students and Severus had thoroughly dissected the paper.

"Do you think the weather held?" Draco stretched and tapped the correct stone on the fireplace. It revealed a clear sky and light wind in the trees. "I'm low on a few things, especially since Percy hasn't made good on the bribe yet."

"As soon as I get my next paycheck."

"In the mean while, I need to go for a long walk in a dense field. Up to it?"

"Sure."

"I've got to do some shopping in Diagon." Ron announced. He grinned at his lover and gave him an affectionate kiss on the cheek. "And you should do your research."

The three younger men collected themselves and one by one flooed out leaving Severus alone with his thoughts and a few interesting new notions about binding spells, genius and how remarkably pleasant it was to have a lover he needn't explain himself too.

"I'm telling you that boy is strange." Ron insisted for the fifth time.

"There's always two or three off center children in a grade. It's expected." Severus insisted. They lay together in the darkness, talking for the first time since breakfast. A school wasn't a very congenial place for a new relationship. They were separated most of the day, leaving them wanting by the time Percy and Draco retired to bed. Three weeks together and they already were falling into patterns.

"He keeps staring at me."

"You're the professor. They're supposed to stare at you."

"It's not like that..."

"If you're so concerned, then perhaps you should reconsider using the Sight."

Ron had decided to refrain from using the Sight unless there was a potentially dangerous situation. He'd been wavering on the case of Ariel Volpone whose strange and prolonged stares in his fifth year Slytherin/Ravenclaw class gave him goose bumps.

"I think I might have to. I'm giving them a test next week, I'll try then. What about you? Classes going well enough?"

"My reputation again precedes me to my benefit. Everyone is suitably cowed and malleable."

"You're a frightening man."

"Thank you." Severus tugged at one of his nipple rings, provoking a squeak. "You know, these people have graves now. Every one of them. I noticed Mrs. Black has removed all of hers. And I'm sure the Minister has been shedding his as well."

"Just a little longer. I've had them a good long time." He touched the two at his eyebrows, the small loop in his nose. "Some longer then others."

"As long as the children don't start copying you." A yawn cracked his jaw.

"Yes, sir." Ron scooted forward, laying his head on the other man's shoulder. "Now shut up and go to sleep."

The next day dawned far too early with Ron finishing his count off and brushing a kiss on his lover's lips. Severus slogged through the day, praying for an end to his suffering when his second class of the day rounded out at five explosions and one full melt down. His fifteen-minute break was interrupted by Trewlany, who had recovered from Ron's attack sobering charm and wanted to apologize to him in the form of free fortune telling. By the time his sixth year Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw class was half way through, he could feel the twitch in his left eye returning.

"Severus!" Albus' voice called suddenly from a startled Hufflepuff's flame. "Come quickly, Charms classroom, Professor Weasley just collapsed."

The black blur that passed for the potions master was up five flights of stairs and through four corridors faster then any student thought possible. Several of them followed, concerned Hufflepuffs mostly and one or two Ravenclaws who thought it might be a test of some sort. The door to the Charms class was wide open and the students were milling about in the hallway. Severus pushed past them all and into the room. Albus was kneeling by the fallen body of his lover. Severus knelt down, oblivious to prying eyes and shifted the limp torso against his knees.

"Ron..."

"According to his class, he was fine and then he had some sort of confrontation with one the students, convulsed and collapsed."

"Ariel Volpone." Severus cursed, lightly slapping the prone man's cheeks. "I should have listened to him."

"Sev..." The whisper broke over pale lips and Severus nearly wept for joy. "..sorry..."

"It's all right. Rest now. You can tell me all about it later." Gently, he bent and picked him up himself, whispering a weightless spell. The children parted like water as the formidable Professor Snape pushed through them. The rumor mill was already hard at work, but at that moment there was only silence. An undetectable camera clicked away.

The knocking grew more and more insistent until Harry barked a command to enter. Spread all around the spacious office were piles of reports and a busy quartet of workers sorting through them. They were the cases of dozens of suspected Death Eaters and Death Eater sympathizers, hate mail sent to the offices and the records of every current auror and some qualified replacements. In the middle of this, a nervous jittering male assistant Harry remembered from Accounting.

"Minister, you might want to see this." He dropped the Prophet on the desk, sending a flurry of other papers flying.

"Fuck."

Plastered across the cover of the paper was a picture of Ron, draped in Snape's arms obviously unconscious and the older man looking distressed as students parted in a wave. As he watched, the potions master looked almost directly at the camera and Harry's heart skipped a beat. He didn't need Silver Sight to read that look.

"Get me the spin team and a direct route to Hogwarts." He snapped at one of the bustling assistants. "And cancel my appointments for the rest of the day. Have the spin team start rapping, but don't make any moves until I give the word. Until then, we are silent."

Confident that his orders were being obeyed, he strode from the office. By the time he hit the street, a horseless carriage was waiting to fly him swiftly and safely to Hogwarts.

"Mrs. Black!"

Hermione's head shot up from where she was scanning an ancient text for clues to another translation.

"Shush, this is a study area." She scolded the other woman, a student in one of her secondary classes.

"Aren't you friends with Lt. Gen... I mean Professor Weasley."

"Yes, I am."

"You should see this then. Hot off the presses."

"Oh..." The image played over twice and blood rushed hot into her cheeks. " I...I have to go."

She collected her things in a hurry, dashing off a note to Regulus and called for a wizarding taxi.

"He turned to me and it was the most hateful stare I've ever seen."

Severus leaned closer, fingers twining his fingers closer with his lovers.

"And that's when you switched to the Sight?"

"It was the stupidest thing I could have done. I should have known from his stares how much..." He shuddered. "I did something to him or he thinks I did. It's specific forceful hate. There were images of him cutting me to pieces, laughing..."

"You don't need to speak of it."

"No...no, that's not it. I think I know what it is, Sev..."

The door burst open and the Minister came flying in, eyes wild.

"You're all right!" Harry took his free hand. "I saw the newspaper and my hearts stopped...hello, Professor."

"Minister Potter." He acknowledged.

"It's true then....you two..."

"Yes, Harry." Ron sighed. "It wasn't how I intended you to find out."

"I just... I guess I'm glad you're ok. Can you tell me what happened?"

"Its difficult to explain." Ron's grip tightened on Severus' hand, sending the message of silence.

"Professor Weasley was caught off guard by a student. A mistake he will most assuredly not make again." Severus wracked his brains for a change of topic. "Why did that photo make it into the Prophet anyway? You assured us that there was no media allowed into this school."

"A grave error in judgment." Harry looked away. "Someone infiltrated the school with a trained owl perhaps..."

"Oh, Harry." Silver bled away from whites. "You didn't."

"He didn't what?" Severus growled.

"He sent in a spy to the school, to leak media reports to the press. It's a good tactical move. The press doesn't think it's really being shut out and the Ministry can control everything that gets reported. Only you chose a bad spy, someone unreliable and they went ahead on this one without you."

"He's been rogue for some time, actually. Just had nothing to report." The Minister agreed. "I didn't mean for..."

"You promised me I was safe here, Harry. You of all people should know what that means." He sat up higher in bed. "You failed me."

"Worse." The icy tone from the door startled all three men. Hermione's eyes gleamed. "He arranged for the leak. I told him that you were with the Professor, Ron.

"How could you have known?"

"I am not blind." She snapped. "I knew what I saw out in the garden that night, but I'm a better friend then some it seems. I was going to wait until you were ready to tell me. I only mentioned it to Harry, so he could prepare himself for this."

"I didn't intend for this to happen!" Harry protested again, nearly stamping his foot in aggravation. "Not this way."

"Fuck." Ron summed up succinctly. "You did mean for this to leak..."

"Once the children knew about it, there wasn't much point in keeping it under wraps." Harry defended. "Once I saw that picture I knew..."

"What? That my right to privacy was forfeit? Mordred and Morgeuse. You've really gone on a complete power trip, haven't you?"

"Ron, be reasonable..."

"I don't think he has any reason to be." Hermione snapped. "Harry Potter, you ought to be glad that I'm more worried about Ron right now then angry with your violation of his rights. I think I'm going to have a talk with your parents."

"I'm a grown man!"

"Well, you've not been acting like one recently." She pointed out. "You've been acting like a spoiled child."

"I can't believe you people! I'm in the middle of trying to bring peace to our world and restructure a whole government! I'm going to make mistakes, I don't have time to get my spin team to cover up for my friends capricious decisions...."

"Shit, Harry. Do you want me to hate you?"

They had been allies and friends since they'd met that first day of Hogwarts. Together they had planned battles, protected each other and given blood in the name of their shared ideals. But that day, something broke between them. It was as Severus had predicted all those long months ago. Arthur ultimately failed by putting his love of peace above his wife, friends and allies. He lost Lancelot three times. Once to madness, once to war and finally in death which came to them both an ocean apart. So Harry began his own destiny that day though he and Ron would temporarily heal the rift between them. Paths were drawn in that room as Harry stormed out, temper raging. Futures were cast into stone while Hermione fussed over Ron.

"So what is this all about anyway?" Hermione asked from the comfortable chair Madame Pomfrey had summoned the moment she noticed the pregnant woman standing in the room.

"The very thing that I least regret is what I am being made to pay for." Ron shook his head. "Why would Lucius give up his only son and heir to the Dark Lord, in full knowledge that the boy would be either broken or killed?"

"I have wondered the same thing myself many times."

"What if he knew that he had another heir."

"But Narcissa never bore another child. There was no way that Lucius would have been able to keep it to himself...."

"Unless he knew that announcing it would only have that child confiscated as well." Ron leaned forward, rubbing at his eyes. "He could have bound Narcissa to silence."

"She died several years ago..."

"And why murder her? In a way that she could be found...she probably threatened to tell someone about the other boy. If I remember she was a very strong witch in her own right. Many tried to assassinate her and failed."

"What makes you so sure there was another son?" Hermione stared at him, quizzically.

"Because I saw him today, in the eyes of a student. The boy who made me collapse imagined killing me in the exact way I did Lucius. The hate I felt....it was the strongest I've ever encountered."

"He looks nothing like a Malfoy..."

"Poly-Juice. He could be anyone. He'd have to be seventeen at least, so he'd need a disguise to attend Hogwarts. What better way then through some advanced potion?"

"Which means the real Ariel Volpone is probably trapped somewhere, being harvested periodically for ingredients." Hermione shivered, clutching reflexively at her own belly. "And the imposter has been doing who knows what for the last three months here at Hogwarts."

"And at the moment, loose in the school." Severus reminded coldly. "He probably knows his cover is close to blown, what with the ill-timed article and all. The Slytherin thing to do would be lie low and play it safe."

"But he's obviously quite mad." Hermione reminded. "He didn't mean for Ron to find out, but he couldn't control himself in class. I'll bet he's panicking."

"Well, everyone he wants to go after is here." Ron gestured to include Severus and himself. "I'm sure he wants you for being a traitor as well as my...."

"Not everyone." Severus looked frozen. "If he's been here for three months, then there's no way he couldn't have caught a glimpse of Draco..."

The quiet blond didn't usually make himself known to the students, but with the war over and with Percy easing him into the real world, he was less cautious.

"Who's the spitting image of Lucius." Ron struggled out of bed. "Let's go."

"You're in no condition." Hermione scolded.

"I fainted. Once. Four hours ago. I'm over it." Shoes and robes flew on and the trio made their way rapidly through the halls ,down through the dungeons, ignoring the curious stares of the students.

Severus' workshop was in shambles, notes thrown everywhere, glasses shattered. Percy lay on the floor, bleeding copiously from a shallow head wound. Immediately, Ron was at his side, slapping him gently.

"What....oh.. Ron! Ron, thank Merlin. He took Draco...this strange child..."

"Where?"

"I don't know..." He coughed hard. "He said something about poetic justice."

"Hermione, get him to the Infirmary. Severus, check over Malfoy Manor. Tell the Aurors there that the Minister sent you. The code is Pax Britannia."

"And where are you going?"

"Back to where it began."

With that, he was in the fireplace, commanding himself away before anyone could protest.

"I'm going to kill him. Impulsive, stupid Gryffindor." Severus hissed. "Get him to the Infirmary, Mrs. Black. I have a son and an idiot to go find."

It was impossible that this entrance point had been left open. Ron stumbled out into the abounded camp, over the scorched and forgotten plain. It must have been opened by the rogue Malfoy. He let his feet find their way, all too familiar with the territory he now occupied. It had ended here, the battle between Dark and Light. Just as he predicted, yards away, Draco was on his knees, blindfolded and gagged. Holding the knife to his throat was a man who could have been his twin, but for the shape of his eyes and the sharpness of his features.

"So you see me as I am, Ronald Weasley." The man sneered, warping fair features into a tangle of rage, a mask of hate. "Darius Malfoy, at your service."

"Let him go." He tried to sound reasonable. "He's innocent."

"I know. And my brother." He pulled tightly long blond hair, provoking a muffled wail from his prone kin. "Won't it be a shame when his pretty face is as scarred and ugly as his lover's?"

"Leave him out of this. You've got me here."

"Ego much? Of course I want to kill you, but I wouldn't mind taking him and your traitor bitch with me. I've nothing left to lose you see. You killed my father, the only person in the world who cared about me."

"Your father would have done the same to me. He gave your brother to the Dark Lord as a play thing for fuck's sake!"

"Liar! Draco chose Voldemort over Father! He ran to him! It broke his heart. " Darius growled. "Draco betrayed us."

"He was three years old and Lucius offered him to the Dark Lord as a guinea pig!"

"Will you stop at nothing?" Darius shook his head. "Draco dies here tonight. You I will keep alive to watch him and Snape perish. Then your family, member by member."

"With what? You seem to have your hands full."

"Well that's taken care of easily enough." He sliced the knife forward, nicking into his brother's skin. Before he knew what was happening, he was on the ground staring up at red-faced fury. The knife was cast from him.

"You'll have to do better then that." Ron growled.

"Accio sword!"

Ron curled and ducked in time to miss the steel that hurtled through the air. Darius grasped it from the air.

"Avengus!" Ron called and a terrible ripping sound split his clothing and flesh as his tattooed sword emerged as real steel, deadly sharp.

"I want your blood."

"Then try and take it."

Once Ron had thought he was unrivaled with a blade. Once, he had thought he'd seen his last battle. They dueled over Draco's prone body, circling each other in the deadliest dance. Metal clanged, blood welled to the surface on both, a series of cuts and nicks.

"Darius!"

The mad blond turned reflexively. Ron cut down , severing two fingers. Darius screamed in agony, dropping his sword to the ground. In moments, Ron had him bound in the very ropes that had restrained Draco. His friend wept quietly where he lay, seemingly unable to rise.

"Father..." Whimpered Darius.

Ron turned to see his savior, who indeed wore the face of Lucius Malfoy. He walked with aristocratic baring he lost only in death, approaching slowly to crouch by Darius' side. He laid a hand on the boy's cheek.

"My good child."

"I failed..."

"No! No, not you my good son. My perfect, precious boy."

Ron watched dumbfounded as this perfect imitator hug his child close, stroking his hair and smoothing circles into his back.

"But he killed you..."

"Yes." And here Lucius gazed at Ron with familiarity....and respect. "He bested me and won from me a great prize that I did not intend to give."

"You stopped my revenge."

"It's beneath you." He pulled out of the hug, to stare into his boy's eyes. "There are things other then revenge that should concern you now. You were breed with purpose, my precious child. Would you really risk that to avenge me on a retired, beaten soldier?"

"I..."

"Shh..shh...I've waited for you to come here for a long time, my boy. You've met your brother, I see." He nodded to where Draco was staring at him wide-eyed and sweating. "He's not what our Lord wanted and he has paid for that with his mind."

"I only wanted..."

"I know, I know." Sharp gray eyes landed on Ron. "Put the weapon aside, boy. There is no use for it here."

"I killed you once..."

"And it worked. I'm dead. Familial ghosts. Your weapon is worthless." He rose with all the deadly elegance Ron remembered in him, drawing Darius up. The boy's bonds untied themselves, falling to the ground. "Go son. Gather those who remain and go. They are waiting for you. Wait there for this generation to die, let the wizarding world to forget and when they're indolent and lazy again, you will strike with spirit that lingers within you."

Lucius faded as if he had never been. Darius turned, casting his glance first down at his brother then up again at Ron. His eyes glowed a familiar, bone chilling red and severed fingers bled black clotted blood.

"I think you can live now." The smile was genuine and for that, all the more chilling. "You know that me and mine will go, become strong and tear down what you worked for so hard to achieve. Live with that."

They stood and Ron saw his window of attack. He could charge forward now, in Darius' moment of boastful pride, but the power he radiated was wicked and more then his match. He could go forth now and take Darius down to their mutual death. Instead, he stood, eyes open, mind painfully clear and undivided. He let him apperate away.

Ron slumped to his knees, laying gentle hands on Draco to undo the last of the other man's bonds. The young blond began to shake, his body wracked with fear. Severus found them mere minutes later. It was easy to tell him everything that had come to pass, the shock to great for him to feel any of it. Stony faced, Severus gathered his adopted son to him and told the errant red head in terse words to apperate with him back to Hogwarts. They walked in silence back to the castle, Ron shook from some source less cold.

As soon as they reached their apartments, Percy burst forth, his head already healed, leaving only the thinnest of scars. Draco jumped from Severus' arms and into his boyfriend's burying himself in the warm embrace. Percy dropped grateful kisses on the blond head, holding him tighter then was strictly healthy. He asked no questions, shot no looks, only nuzzled into the whole, unharmed body. Severus brushed passed them into the bedroom, Ron followed, dread pitting in his stomach.

"I'll pack my things." He whispered, taking one look at the harsh lines of the other man's face.

"What?"

"You're furious. You should be. I'd be furious at me." He slumped on to the bed, laying his face in his hands. "Ran off without a clue to where I was going, following a homicidal maniac...and then losing him to a fucking ghost."

"I'm...well, I am angry. But not at you." The bed dipped as Severus settled himself next to the other man. "Myself for not believing in you. At Potter for forcing our hand. If that article hadn't come out and he hadn't shown up, I don't think Darius would have struck so quickly. You shouldn't have gone without me...."

"I've led too many people to their deaths." Ron raised his head, traces of silvery tears glittering unshed in his eyes. "I couldn't watch...not again..."

"Blaise..."

"Died in my arms. My hands are coated in the blood of people I love...how could I knowingly ask for another. Lucius' death was on *my* head. Darius wanted me." He shook his head. "I don't...I couldn't..." The last grips of numbing shock lost their grip and he began to sob. "It's all for nothing...friends dead and gone to dust for nothing, but to have it all wiped away by the second coming...."

"You forget that you have a direct link to the government. Potter is into penance. He'll do whatever you ask."

"Fuck..." Ron wiped his hands harshly over his eyes. "He is my General...I can't forget that, Severus. I can't. I look at him...and I will follow any order he snaps at me. I never thought...We fought together. He swore he'd protect me. And he failed....I failed because he failed me.... I can't...fuck."

"Ron." Thin fingers found his chin and turned his face towards him. "You did what you had to. You didn't kill Darius because some part of you knows that we will find him and his army long before he makes good on his promise. There are not that many places they could hide and he's mad enough to betray himself. Potter and you... there will be a time for you two to figure things out, but it's not now. You're tired, you've only recently gotten out of a hospital bed, done battle and bled all over your robes."

"I hate failing." He snorted. "I hate that there's still someone out there who I have to do battle with all over again."

"Who said it had to be you?" Severus shook his head. "Come here."

Ron allowed himself to led into the bathroom where Severus cleaned out his wounds with a treated cloth.

"Doesn't it have to be..."

"You're a teacher. Welcome to your retirement." He dabbed at a small cut on one calloused hands. "Your specialty is charms. If you have to be involved, do it through your research."

"But..."

Severus pried opened clutching fingers to reveal another sluggishly bleeding gash.

"You don't want to see me in danger, fine. It works both ways." Black eyes trained into warm brown. "You've paid whatever you think you owe. You're mine now."

"Am I then?" For the first time in many hours, Ron allowed a trace of a smile. "Both ways on that too?"

"Yes."

Slowly, Ron leaned forward and brushed a warm salty kiss over thin lips.

"Good." He lay his head on one bony shoulder. "That's very good."

"Do you want to go back inside?" Percy whispered into his boyfriend's ear.

"No...no. " He raised his head, gray eyes clear of tears and fear. "I watched him disappear, Perce. He's dead. Voldemort...he may live on in Darius. And now, I can have my own revenge. "

"You're handling this remarkably well."

"He didn't really hurt me." Draco shook his head. He leaned his forehead against his boyfriend's chin. "Can we talk about it tomorrow?"

"Of course. Do you want to go to sleep?"

"No. And before you ask, no chess... I want.." He smirked. "I would like you to show me what it is that boyfriends do when they're fathers aren't keeping a good enough eye on them."

"Are you sure? It's been a long day..."

"Exactly."

Long blond hair worked like a hand caressing his cheek as Draco turned into the set of rooms he called home. Ron and Severus were nowhere in sight. The bedroom they had begun to share in sleep greeted them with perfumed darkness. Potions man to the core, Draco reveled in smells and delighted over every foreign fragrant herb that Percy brought to him. Many he acquired from his time in China, others he discovered as he worked through thick medical texts in preparation for his upcoming exams. They hung from the ceiling, intermingling pleasantly.

In the subtle shadows, Draco shed his outer robes, leaving only the loosest slacks and a tight under shirt. They had lain next to each other in less, but it seemed in that moment that Percy was watching a sacred unveiling. Hurriedly, he began to shuck off his own layers, not wishing to be left behind. Down to his pants when gentle hands landed on his bringing them to the warm skin of his sides.

"I'm afraid." He admitted into the darkness. Soft lips brushed over his collarbone.

"So am I." Was the answering mummer. "But I don't think we have to be."

They moved together like crashing waves, soft sounds passing between them. When they fell naked onto the stripped bed, learning each other's bodies, it seemed as if it had always been this way between them. Draco trembled and made soft keening noises while Percy groaned from a depth he had never known before. There was no end to Percy's patience as worshiped at the alter of his own alabaster god, lavishing attention on the sensitive points of his hips, the ticklish crease below his belly and his fine pulsing cock. When Draco came, arching into his lover's mouth, he saw the world open up before him, ripe with possibility.

"Ohhh.." He sighed softly, riding out the last involuntary shiver as Percy crept back up his body. "That was a amazing."

"Thank you." They kissed chastely, Percy's fingers weaving intricate patterns on his lover's pale skin.

Hesitantly, Draco twisted to reach down to return the favor. He bit down on his lip, startled by the firm length that filled his grip. It was unsettlingly familiar.

"You needn't..."

"Hush." He kissed at the cruel scar, pushing at his fears. This was Percy. He trusted him with his life and his body. Nothing was going to happen if he let his fingers dance on what was, after all, just another bit of flesh. Having been celibate for longer then he cared to think about, Percy came relatively speedily, filling Draco's hand with sticky warmth. The blond wrinkled his nose fastidiously, then endearingly stuck out the tip of a pink tongue to taste it. He grimaced and wiped the rest of it off on a discarded t-shirt, accompanied by Percy's gales of laughter.

"You're a wonder." He informed his lover.

"I liked that." Draco told him, settling sleepily into his side. "Can we do it again?"

"As often as you like." Percy did everything he could to suppress his grin, but in the end, he fell asleep smiling.

The classroom finally emptied as Ron sagged into his chair and laid his head in his arms. The world had been moving far too quickly of late, a whirl of color and noise that he couldn't stop. In the stresses of the day, he let his mind wander down four flights of stairs, past the darkened stone and into the close space he shared with the disgruntled potions professor. It wasn't a new strategy for him. In the war, it had been to a quiet tent where Blaise was always waiting, but that had been far more unsure. A tentative image where as his nights with Severus were strong and fresh in his mind. Most of all, he treasured the soothing moments before sleep when Severus would lay a cool hand on his cheek and they were an island of calm and warmth.

"Ron?"

"Draco?"

It was impossible, but there he was, standing as tall and proud as he would among his native stone. Lately, he had grown more and more daring, but never before had he climbed all the way to Ron's teaching chambers with no one to accompany him.

"Teach me to fight." Grey eyes blazed in challenge. "With a Charged Weapon."

"What? Why?"

"Darius is mine." The fine blade of vengeance tinged his tone and Ron could feel the bile rise up in his stomach. " I know what he means to do, taking up Voldemort's form and I won't let that happen."

"I won't teach you the way of war. I've lost too many on that way already." He thought he sounded firm.

"If you do not teach me, then I will find someone else." Could he? Would he? Draco talk to a stranger? But this was not the child with a soft touch who had first spoken to him in whispers. This was a blazing powerhouse. This was a Malfoy. "And they will not be nearly as good."

"Your father..."

"Papa will learn to live with it and he will not blame you for teaching me." Gray eyes narrowed. "You will teach me?"

"It's no easy thing to kill."

"It's no easy thing to be tortured. I've waited nearly two decades for that chance. If Percy could not talk me out of it, then you certainly cannot."

Ron stood abruptly, evening their stance until they were locked in a battle of wills. Images of Draco washed over him and he realized that the Sight had come over him without his consciously wishing it. They were images filled with fear and hate, but they were tempered with understanding. Darius would die if that were what was necessary to rid the world of the man who had taught him a meaning of pain that Ron with all his scars could not begin to comprehend. Another causality. Ron let his shoulders slump in defeat and cursed himself for ever thinking of Draco as an innocent bystander. "We will begin tomorrow. At dawn. First, you'll need to get into shape. Weaponry will be hard to come by, but I think I can get around the new Ministry prohibitions." He shook his head. "I don't want this."

"I'm sorry." And it was genuine. Draco smiled at him, gently. "But this is what I have to do. And this is the best way to do it."

I am the best. Ron remembered resignedly. The blood on my hands proves that.

That night when he confessed to Severus all that had happened, the other man was quiet for a long time. In the end, he pulled his lover close and tucked the red resigned head beneath his chin.

"You're not a killer. You fought for what you thought was right."

"And I was good at it." He sighed, but didn't pull away. "He's going to do this. Go after Darius himself, sword in hand and I'll be the one that trained him."

"If he is so determined then let him go." The ache was there, but shoved to the side. "You told me that. He's a grown man, capable of making his own decisions from whom he wishes to sleep with, to the way he seeks revenge."

For a long time, Ron was silent, playing with the ends of greasy black hair, pressing soft kisses into Severus' neck.

"Why isn't it over?" He asked finally. "Why is there still so much pain and blood?"

"War leaves a wound that does not heal over night. Give it time."

Ron made love that night like a man possessed, begging to be fucked harder and harder until they both went careening over the edge in reluctant exhaustion. Still, he lay awake long after Severus drifted away. His heart beat like a drum and the days of battle were close to the surface. Slowly, gently, he traced patterns into Severus' slumbering body, reminding himself of all that was good and right with the world. Carefully, he went over his lesson plans for the next day, pushing down the taste of dust. He fell asleep reciting students' names that still eluded him, the sounds of dying screams fading to black.

"AHHHHHHH!" The scream echoed through the house. As one, all the banished males winced. Regulus tore off another fingernail while Ron roughly turned the pages of a magazine. Severus was doing a poor job of pretending not to notice anything was out of the ordinary. "WHERE IS HE?! I'M GOING TO KILL HIM! AHHHHHHHH!"

"You don't think she really meant that?" Regulus asked Ron for the fifth time.

"I'm sure it's just the pain talking." He reassured.

"Do you think..."

"No. Stay here." The last time Regulus had attempted to go aid his wife, he'd come back with three bones fractured in his hand and a black eye. "They'll call you when it's time."

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Is there any tea left?" Severus asked plaintively, looking up from his book.

"No, but unless you're going to pour it in your ears, I don't see how it was helping."

"I was enjoying stirring it."

"You've gone completely loony."

"Says the man who's tearing Wild Witch Monthly into perfect concentric circles."

"It's soothing." Ron protested, then gave up, instead muttering a charm that let a rain of said circles to pour over his lover's head.

"That was juvenile." Severus said dryly, picking bits of paper out of his hair.

"Sorry."

Sighing in frustration, he bent to help clean up the mess, trying not to gnaw through his lip. When he bent to pick out another scrap from the folds of Severus' robes, the older man pulled him into his lap.

"Calm down." He ordered, allowing the red head to arrange himself comfortably against him. "She's a healthy young woman, aided by five of the best medi-wizards in the country. Give her another hour and she'll have proved herself a capable breeder."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know all. Now shut up and read me this passage, my eyes have gone blurry in this light."

"Old man." He teased, but quickly took up the book, ready to take any offered excuse. It turned out to be a text on blended magics, a subject of no little interest to him. It seemed like only moments had passed when the medi-witch came to inform them:

"Mr. Black, you have a daughter."

Ron leapt up and slapped the new father on the back.

"Oh, dear." Muttered the older man, staggering under the clap. "May I see her?"

They led him in, leaving Ron and Severus to dispatch all the waiting owls to every loved one who was eagerly standing by.

"She's beautiful!" Regulus swept in, a bundle of pink and red in his arms. "Look!"

With ease, Ron took her in his arms, ignoring Severus raised eyebrow. So he knew how to handle babies, well the Weasley family was vast, he'd had his chance to learn. The baby was cute as newborns went, her face still red and squishy. Her head was topped with thick black hair. Gently, he stroked one of her curled fists and cooed softly.

"Does she have a name yet?" He asked softly, pressing a kiss on her forehead.

"Maria. We wanted something with no connection to the past." Regulus smiled as if his face could split in half.

"Hello Maria. I'm your godfather." Ron whispered to her. Her eyes remained resolutely closed. "And this is your grumpy godfather-in-law."

Severus let a single finger trail on one chubby cheek. He said nothing, but when Ron handed the baby back to Regulus, he caught a flicker of sadness on his lover's face. They didn't talk about children most of the time, too tired of seeing them all day in class, but sometimes Ron wondered if Severus missed this part of raising Draco. Holding the sleeping newborn, there was an unfamiliar peace and hope settling over the room.

"Did I miss it?" Harry hurtled into the room, doubtless newly apperated from the Ministry. Ron smiled delicately at him. All was reconciled, for now, but the new and fragile ground they tread together didn't make for comfortable meetings.

"Her name is Maria. She's healthy and Hermione is doing just fine."

"That's great!" Harry grinned and patted his pockets until he found a packet. "I meant to give this to you, Ron, but it's been ages since I've had a break."

The parchment was thick, Ministry quality.

"What is it?"

"The rights to all your new inventions and ideas. You can sign them with any fake name you wish or even a real one if you want." Harry grinned at him. "No pressure."

"Ta." The weight of it was suddenly far too much and he tucked it away in a pocket of his robe. "I'll owl them when I've read them through. Where's Ginny?"

"At work!" Harry grinned, bouncing a little. "That's the other thing I wanted to tell you....we're engaged!"

"Oh...congratulations." My little sister, you fucking bastard. Ron pushed down the sudden rage that flushed through him. "That's great!"

"It just happened!" The Minister smiled blissfully. "She's just been so understanding and sweet. You come from good stock."

"That's what they keep saying." He shifted uncomfortably, wondering when his breeding had become important. It smacked of pure blood politics, but not Harry, surely? Of course not....it wasn't as if any child of his would be the Heir of Gryffindor or anything. Something ugly was dawning on him. Judiciously, he placed it on the back burner and changed the subject. "Any news of Darius?"

For a moment, Harry didn't answer, looking put out that more hadn't been made of his announcement. Ron wasn't sure what he was expecting, the Minister had yet to acknowledge Severus in any real way as Ron's partner and this was the first time he'd been in the Black house the wedding.

"There are several leads in Bulgaria at the moment. But the tip from France is also being investigated. It's possible they're both completely off the mark." He pushed up his glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "It would go faster if we didn't have negotiate with every other Minister in Europe to get anything done."

"Haven't you tried sneaking someone in? Perhaps a deft spy or fifteen?"

The blank look was all the answer that was needed. Once, Harry had honored necessity over diplomacy. No longer. Ron stared at his General and wished that his stupid loyal heart would give over.

"Minister, if you will excuse us, the Hogwarts' schedule is a tight one." Severus stepped in, relieving Ron of words.

"Don't you want to see Hermione?" Regulus queried softly.

"I'm sure she's too tired and excited to deal with the likes of us." Ron flashed a disarming, dangerous grin. "Good bye, Maria. I'll come visit soon."

Outside and safe to rage, he felt no need too. A mere wall between him and his friend was enough to drain it all away.

"Thank you for the save. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"He's marrying Ginny to tie you closer to him."

"He loves her. For all his cold planning, he does." He sighed. "And that makes it all the worse. Take me home, Severus."

The older man gazed at the young man at his side. Ron was defeated and the lines around his eyes belonged to someone twice his age. Merlin, he was beautiful, even in a depression. The red shock of his hair cascading around his shoulders, silver piercings clinging stubbornly to his face and ears like the last survivors of a slaughter.

"I love you." He told him quite suddenly and with ease.

Ron turned to stare at him, searching black eyes, his jaw dropping softly. Seven months of sharing a bed and a life and nothing so clear had been said between them. Only dancing around the reality of things.

"Oh..." He grasped one bony hand in his own. "Oh."

"I didn't expect this. "Severus continued as if he'd said nothing out the ordinary. "Not you, not Draco growing up, none of it. But I think it's been for the best."

"And you love me?"

"Must I repeat myself?"

"I love you, too." The words had been poised on his lips for so long that they tumbled forth without any provocation. "Since the day Draco's muscle potion kicked in."

"Then we are fortunate wretched creatures, are we not?" The smile twisted ironically. "To be so rewarded for our deeds?"

Ron laughed, well aware that Severus was taking a well-aimed prod at both of their unfortunate guilty consciences. Harry peered through the curtains at the noise, curious, but by the time he caught a glimpse of the couple they were gone, leaving him feeling as if he had missed out on some cosmic joke.

When if finally came down to it, Draco and Darius, swords drawn and faces bloodied, it was no where near what anyone could have imagined. The Ministry, after two years of ineffectiveness, was out of the picture. It was a charm of Ron's that ultimately located the renegade's, using some of Draco's blood to find his nearest kin. The lair was neither a smoldering pit nor a brilliant mansion, but a painfully typical home in a Muggle area just outside of London. There had been no need to issue a challenge. When Draco arrived on the doorstep, honed as only one could be when trained by a master, he was met with a sullen minion type, who only grunted and led the way.

Darius had enshrined himself in what had once been a perfectly respectable living room. It was now a monument to Voldemort, filled with mementos of darker times from huge painted Marks to the blue prints of battles fought, both lost and won. The immaculate blond, like so many Malfoys before him, was a carved statue when he met the enemy. He rose from the faded couch strewn with rag tag bits of paper with little emotion. For those observing, a few of the dreg Death Eaters and a few trusted allies outside, there was a momentary mirror. They were roughly the same height, exact in manner and face, but the moment they drew swords their differences came to life.

The red that marked Voldemort's diseased powers began to throb behind Darius' gray eyes and the blade the Draco carried thrummed with blue-green energy that would normally channel through his wand. The battle should have been simple. Darius was obviously weak and half-possessed. Draco had trained for two years with bloody-minded determinism. Instead, it was a clash of wills. They stood, locked in a fight that went deeper then any biting steel.

"Fuck." Ron eased closer, enhancing the spell that allowed him to look through Draco's charmed eyes.

"What? What is it?" Percy clamored closer. He'd insisted on coming and it was only Draco's need for him that prompted Ron's agreement. His brother was a liability beyond all belief.

"They've tangled forces. They're not dueling in the strictest sense and that puts Draco at a disadvantage."

Inside, the two men were frozen, only the swift flickering of eyes and the rise and fall of their chest betrayed them as living.

"Can't he just break it?"

"Only if he can fight off whatever Darius is throwing at him. "

The images that cascaded through the delicate walls Draco had built were terrible. He knew them well. They were his most hated memories. The ones that still drove him to bed, to cuddle with anyone willing and to just close his eyes and shiver. But he withstood them. And he returned with images of his own. Lucius, mostly, at his ugliest. He showed Darius the betrayal, the father handing over his young son. He willed him to see, to understand. And when there was the slightest waver, the smallest chink in the impeccable armor, he thrust home the blade that Voldemort had always ignored as a Muggle toy.

"Shit." Ron sank to the pavement, clutching his stomach as images of Draco's first death, the blood, the stench and it all came rushing back. He clung tightly to himself. "Percy...get him out of there. He's going to faint and that might clue the minions in."

"What are you going to do?!"

"Try not to pass out. Go!"

Useless again, Ron cursed the whole litany of paint-peelers he'd learned over the years. Desperately he tried to cancel the charm that linked him to his wavering friend and managed at the last minute. His own Charged Sword sprang readily to his hand and he moved in to covor Percy and Draco's retreat. Half a dozen die hard followers watched as he entered, but made no attempt to attack. Hate was apparent in their eyes, but so was a general apathy. Too long had they waited for this day, too long had they lingered. The great enemy. Ron regarded them with a mix of contempt and pity. Perhaps, like him, they understood battle fatigue.

In the living room, Percy was attempting to rouse Draco from his impromptu sleep.

"What now?"

"Now...we let the government get it's hands dirty."

"Ron..."

"It's time, Percy."

"He's married to our sister."

"She said I do, not me." The muscles in his jaw twitched. "And Ginny's not been on either of our sides for a long time. "

"Ron..."

"Enough! This is hard as it is." He called a flame into the abandoned fireplace, resolutely ignoring his brother's mutterings in the background.

For a long moment, he stared into the flickering light. They could just leave this place and it would be as if nothing ever happened. The Ministry could continue it's own search indefinitely and Ron could remain peacefully undisturbed at Hogwarts, hidden away with his lover and a bevy of amuck, hormonal children. But reality intruded quickly in. As long as Harry remained unaware of his friend's going ons, then there could be no real peace. He was tormented with thoughts of betrayal and his nightmares were littered with guilt.

"Direct line to Minister Potter, password: Phoenix Rising."

"Ron!" Glasses, silver shot hair and all, Harry smiled at him from the fire. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Darius is dead. His followers are gathered at his base."

"You killed him!" Harry stared, his eyes cold. "That goes entirely against our policy of non-violence. How am I going to justify that to my people?"

"I didn't kill him." No use saying who did. Draco deserved anonymity. "And I don't really give a damn. If you want to round out the remainders of the gang and gather the body, I will give you the address."

"How could you do this?"

"I had to. You were spending so much time fooling around with politics that Darius could have risen before you found him." Ron pleaded with him one last time. "This is what people laid down their lives for, Harry. So their children wouldn't have to worry and wonder if today was the day that He would return. That tomorrow we could all be dead. "

"I remember." Glasses came away and Ron was taken aback once more at how intensely green those eyes were. "But that's no excuse for your behavior. It will go unpunished because it will be too difficult to explain how my own right hand man went behind my back to violate every principle I have stood for. Give me your coordinates and then clear out of there. I'll get the spin team working on it."

Ron carefully spelled out the address, ignoring Harry's flare of surprise that the threat had been so close to home.

"Is there anything else, Minister?"

"Yes....I think it's time you removed those piercings. They're only a reminder of uglier times."

The connection ended suddenly, leaving Ron trembling and angry. He turned from the fire to find Draco stumbling back to awareness.

"Congratulations." He spat bitterly. "You won. And now we will pay the price."

"It's done, Ron." The picture of unruffled calm, Draco smiled gently at him. "He's only bluffing, you know. There's nothing he could do to touch you and he knows it. We're free, now. "

He grinned at the retreating dark figures and gathered Percy into a hard kiss.

"Go home, Ron." Percy said softly.

Fatigued and emptied, he followed orders.

Severus was waiting, silent and wrapped in black. He asked no questions, demanded nothing, but shook him free of dusty mission clothes and thoughts. In his solemn, mechanical manner, Ron recited the details of the day as he was ceremonially stripped and eased into bed. The potions master listened in a manner few knew him capable of. When it was all out and they were still in the darkness, Severus spoke with the same dry even tones that Ron had come to depend on.

"You don't have to forget. No one can force you too and he was wrong for saying it. So wrong that I fear he may have ruined whatever relationship the two of you had left. But you must not live in the past. Too long have I watched you sit in silence when you once would have had a ready joke or a smile. Don't let it consume you."

"Draco said we were free."

"As we ever are." Severus agreed, resting one thin hand on his lover's side. "Do you feel trapped here?"

"Not with you. Never with you. And Hogwarts feels like home." He sighed. "But I think I'll spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, tensed for attack."

"You say that now." A feather light kiss brushed over his forehead. "Give it time."

"I don't know what I would have done, if I hadn't known you were here."

"You're stronger then you think. You would have remained."

"I'm not so sure." He sat up, slowly, letting the sheets fall to his hips. "I probably would have tried to kill Darius that day and lost. Or tracked him myself...."

"But you didn't. You play this game of what if and you forget that it hasn't happened." Severus rose as well, resting his head on one thickly muscled shoulder. "You're mine now, remember?"

"Yours." Ron agreed, turning to take thin lips in a hard kiss.

"Then you will be with me." He was commanded when he drew away. "Here. Now. Not in some lonely warring past."

"Yes. Yes."

They moved together, finding established patterns and as their bodies drew together, Ron called up the image of what he had been. The warrior, who once had stood so proud and sure, the defeated veteran with silver eyes and the lover he was in this bed with this man. It wasn't hard to see which he wanted to be. As he had once so blithely pushed away the leathers that clothed the warrior, he discarded the persona itself. Instead, he indulged himself in the bony plane of Severus' body, tasting the edges of salted skin and opening every sense to the pleasure the other man provoked in him.

For the first time, he let the Sight in while they made love and the rush of emotion overwhelmed and consumed him. There was only affection and lust and desire and a need to be closer, closer...

They tumbled over the edge together, struggling not to loosen their grip and for one miraculous instance, they were one.

"Oh...."

"Shhhh...."

The snake and the lion, the creatures they embodied fled them in that moment. They were merely men, engaged with each other as deeply as two human beings could be. House, past, all melted away to leave the one pure moment. And as they drifted slowly out of it and back into their own sweaty, sticky skins, Ron knew that it never really had to end. He understood now. They had a lifetime to recapture it, in every waking moment. Fuck Harry, the Ministry and his posed pretty wife. He would always have those he lost close to him. If he ever lost sight of what mattered, Severus would be there to lead him back.

"Get some sleep. You've got class tomorrow."

"Yes, sir." Ron grinned into the darkness, resting his head against the thin ribcage of his lover and listening to the steady thrum of his heart.

As he slipped into sleep, Severus regarded him thoughtfully under dark lashes. Dimly, he recalled Elaine that love worn girl, who had nursed a mad Lancelot back to health and bore him Galahad, the grail knight. Had she ever held her lover close, with full knowledge of his crazed potential and been afraid? Or like him, has she only stroked his hair absently and prayed for the day when he would shrug off the last shreds of fear and hate? Did she ever fear that it was his very love that would destroy him?

It was Ron's doing that his musings had grown so abstracted of late, but he couldn't blame the slumbering man in the least. If anything, he cursed himself for his maudlin internal ramblings. Arthur and Lancelot, indeed. They were all of them only what they appeared and nothing more. Legends were for frightened children.

He followed Ron into sleep, missing a swift trick of light that caught up in the red fur of his lover's side, painting a sword and bleeding wound there. Some say that Lancelot died alone as a hermit to clean himself of sin and that he never again picked up a blade, so disgusted by the pain caused by his own hands. Others, in more secretive books that no child ever read, told of a fierce duel and a mortal wound inflicted by the only man who had ever truly bested the valiant knight: The King himself.

~Finis~


End file.
